


Dum Spiro, Spero.

by CallicoKitten



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom, Spooks | MI-5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Angst, Apocalypse, Established Relationship, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I literally have no idea where this is going, I suppose, James Bond is a super bamf, Lucas needs a hug, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Psychological Trauma, Q and Tariq can be cyberbuddies, Q is awesome, Rough Sex, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-21 17:38:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 23,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallicoKitten/pseuds/CallicoKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To Q's utter horror and disgust the world ends a few minutes before five on a Friday afternoon. </p><p>He survives. Trapped in Vauxhall Cross with M and Eve, Q has no idea what's happening in the world (or to James). Eventually<br/>they get in to contact with Section D of MI5 and together they make their way out in to whats left of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. MI6, Q:

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY APOCALYPSE EVERYONE.
> 
> Idk, guys, this is Sophie's Christmas present I'm not sure where it's going or if I'll keep publishing it on here (so lemme know if you're interested) She just wanted a Spooks/James Bond crossover. I'm not sure how this happened.
> 
> If you don't watch Spooks but want to read this anyway I'll write up a few quick character summaries in the next chapter (which will focus on the Spooks gang) so fear not! 
> 
> Timeline wise this takes place a few months after Skyfall and after season 9 of Spooks (but Lucas survived because _Lucas_ ) so just imagine those events took place in 2012 not whenever they did happen.
> 
> The title means "While I breathe, I hope."
> 
> And this is sort of a prologue, so forgive the short length!

To Q's utter horror and disgust the world ends a few minutes before five on a Friday afternoon.

He had been so looking forward to the weekend (not that he ever actually _did_ anything on the weekends, weekends weren't a luxury afforded to MI6 agents but he much preferred working from his snug flat where he didn't need to get dressed or accommodate anyone else in his schedule.) His office isn't _awful_ (they're back in Vauxhall Cross finally) he has a lot of very expensive toys and a nice view of the city but still, the fact remains that no matter how essential he is they won't allow him to come to work in his pyjamas (and yes, he's tried.)

He's gazing vacantly out of the window when It happens. It's been a slow day, for him anyway, most of the field agents are out doing super secret spying things. Even Tanner's out liaising with GCHQ or someone.

Bond's off doing whatever Bond does on his days off.

Everything flashes red, the computers crash, the lights flicker.

Eve bursts in five minutes later, "M wants you in his office."

 _Bugger._ This can't be good.

The thing is no one's really sure what happened. Everything just stopped.

And then the explosions started.

The first one rocks the building; Q spills his tea all over some very important looking documents on M's desk. Sirens wail. The building goes in to automatic lock down, doors lock; agents assemble in the main room (him and Eve and M and four others).

Before the second one hits M commands them down to the vaults, lead-lined, a few hundred feet under London. They'll be safe there, Q thinks.

He's not sure how but along the way they lose people. The building is crumbling around them, people get crushed or trapped or fall (Q doesn't look, this is why he isn't a field agent, he concentrates on breathing, running)

There's just him and Eve and M when he looks around.

There are rations and water and computers hidden amongst the files in the vault. There are weapons and radiation suits and emergency radios. (This isn't how is life is supposed to go)

Comms are still up; Q thinks about calling James, but their priority are officers in the field.

They don't get through to anyone.

Q hacks in to the CCTV network. It's chaos up above. There are people running, screaming, dying. Fires and floods and collapsing buildings. It's like one of those stupid disaster films Eve dragged him to see. (He finds himself searching the grainy image for a familiar flash of blond hair – he doesn't find it) His mouth is dry. "Sir, London is in chaos." He says, as though Mallory – _M_ (he's still not used to that) isn't seeing what he is.

"It's not just London, sir," Eve says from somewhere behind him. "It's everywhere, worldwide." Images dance across the screen – Paris, New York, Moscow, Bombay.

M growls, "We should be up there. We should be _helping_."

At half past six the cameras cut out, the computers go down, the lights go off.

Everything is silent.

Eve presses a torch into his hands and Q has the absurd urge make shadow puppets against the opposite wall. He desperately wants James here; he won't say that though, he won't even admit it to himself. It's ridiculous though. Of all the people to survive the collapse of civilisation as they know it he never thought he'd be one of them. He can shoot a gun – of course he can, he's a rather good shot if he does say so himself, but he's never needed to shoot anyone. He's not sure he could.

He likes pyjamas and key boards and warm tea and cardigans. He doesn't like guns and blood and death.

There's a reason he's not a field agent.

Now he's huddled in a dark basement and his computers aren't working and the world is tearing itself apart above him. He finds himself laughing, "Well I suppose that settles it," he says.

M and Eve turn to him.

"The Mayans were right. Who knew?"

Eve smiles weakly, rubs his shoulder. M sighs and buries his face in his hands.

The world ends a few minutes before five on a Friday afternoon.

Q survives.

He really shouldn't have.


	2. Section D: Ruth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Section D become aware of the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is awful, I've never written any of the Spooks gang before so it's probably awful and OOC.
> 
> Also. If Lucas steals this story do feel free to slap me, my Lucas feels are _infinite_ Ergh. Stupid spies.
> 
> Do let me know if any of you want the character profiles, I can type them up and put them at the end of the next one (Bond's day off being rudely interrupted by the apocalypse.) So yeah, drop me a comment!
> 
> Bond's should be up later tonight/early this morning.
> 
> Apocalypse depending of course.

Ruth goes in early that morning.

It’s not like she sleeps much anyway, groggy from the anaesthetic. She kept analysing ever conversation she ever had with Lucas – John, whatever she was supposed to call him now, she keeps thinking she should be able to tell by now. It never gets any easier. 

She thinks about Tom and Zoë and Danny. She thinks about Adam and Fiona and Zaf. She thinks about Jo and Roz. She thinks about Colin and Malcolm.

Its days like these she thinks about quitting. Walking away and never looking back. But even in Greece she could never truly relax. And she couldn’t leave Harry.

Not now, not after everything.

So she lies awake and stares at her ceiling, counting down the hours until morning. She gets up at five and goes in at seven. 

She’s expecting the offices to be empty. She should have known better, really. 

Harry is sat at his desk, massaging his forehead and nursing a glass of scotch. What was it Lucas had said about sitting and feeling sorry for himself? 

She tries her best to smile as she leans in, “Morning.”

He jumps slightly, looks up and smiles weakly when he sees it’s her. “Good morning, Ruth. I said you could have the day off today, remember?” His eyes look even further away than usual today.

Ruth smiles again, wonders if he’ll ever learn that days off don’t help. “Thought I could at least be of some use here rather than just moping around at home. I’m sure this Lucas incident will require a mountain of paper work.”

He flinches slightly but smiles and nods.

She wonders if she should comfort him. She knows she should. She’s just not sure how. “Where is he anyway?”

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose, “In one of the holding cells downstairs – sedated.”

She sighs. “You need to move him to a proper prison, Harry.”

He looks at her. He doesn’t want to lose another member of their team, neither does she. She can still hear Lucas’ words in her head, hitching and shaky. _I can’t go back to prison, Harry. I’ll die there you know I will._ “I will,” Harry says eventually. “Just...Give me a little while, Ruth.”

She nods, wonders what would have happened if Lucas had actually jumped, leaves.

The office is quiet until Tariq arrives at half eight. He gives her a warm smile and sits down at his terminal, tapping away happily. Dimitri arrives next, his eyes slightly red; he heads straight down to the holding cells. Ruth wonders if she was the only person who didn’t know that Lucas was being kept down there. When he comes back up his eyes are less red, he pats Ruth on the shoulder as he passes and he gets on with his work.

He went up to the rooftop when Harry called, helped get Lucas off the roof. Ruth had gone home by that point – not through choice.

Beth doesn’t come in.

When the sirens start wailing and the building closes down all Ruth can think is: _not today. Any day but today_. As they rush around, contacting agents and agencies, imagining people screaming over grainy CCTV images, Ruth’s hoping it’s a drill. Like all those years ago. 

She knows it isn’t. 

At half past six, the lights go out. 

Ruth holds herself together because she can. Because she’s thought the world was ending before – in drills, after deaths, but it never seems to. It’s still spinning. It’s still spinning now.

It’s Tariq who says, “Someone should go and get Lucas – err, John. Or at least check on him.” Tariq who’s putting a brave face on but who’s hands are trembling and who scans the cctv images for anyone he knows. 

Ruth’s not why but she volunteers. Harry’s too busy trying to contact the home secretary, the Prime minister, _anyone_ to stop her. Dimitri offers to go; Tariq tries to talk her out of it. Ruth’s actually kind of flattered. It’s not like she hasn’t been kidnapped before, though.

Not like this was her first near death experience.

The stairway down to the cells isn’t shut off, thank god. Nor has it crumbled like some of the upper floors. She wonders how long their oxygen will last. 

Lucas is sprawled on a cot; he’s dressed in loose grey jumper and sweat pants. No shoes, no shoelaces, no belt, no blanket. He’s cuffed at the ankle to the wall beside the bed. The room is empty but for the cot. 

He looks fragile lying there, she thinks. A few shades too pale, dark circles under his eyes, sweat-curled strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead. He shifts a little, mumbles something that might be Russian or English or something in between. She wonders how long he’d be falling apart, not that or if he was ever really whole. None of them were really, she supposes. Someone from Six once told her that people joined the services to find a family, to find somewhere to belong. 

If this is the end of the world, they’re going to need all the agents they can get. Even if those agents will have to be on suicide watch.

She jumps slightly when she hears the gentle snick of the door being pushed open. She doesn’t have to turn around to know its Harry. “How long will it take for the sedatives to wear off?” she asks.

“They should wear off right about now.” he says, smoothly. “What do you want to do when they do, Ruth?”

“You’re asking _me_?”

“He kidnapped you- ” he begins.

“He was going to kill you,” she reminds him. 

Harry sighs.

“This isn’t a drill, is it?” Ruth asks quietly.

“No.”

“We can’t just keep him down here then, can we?”

“He could be dangerous,” Harry says.

_I know_ , she thinks.

On the cot, Lucas stirs, his eyelids flutter and he groans dazedly. 

“Lucas?” she says softly.

“No,” he mumbles.

Ruth exchanges a glance with Harry.

“John?” he tries.

Lucas groans again, turns away and buries his face in the pillow. “ _No_.”

“Give me a few minutes with him,” Harry says.

Ruth leaves.


	3. December 23rd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our spies find each other, Q worries and Lucas angsts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would have been up last night but the apocalypse took out my internet so I watched LOTR instead.
> 
> Anyhow, I know I said this would be James' but I've decided to leave him hanging, as it were. Thanks a bunch for all the kudos guys! It really means a lot :)
> 
> The next chapter will probably be up soon but shorter since I'm not sure what direction to take the whole Lucas thing in and bleaugh. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

23rd December 2012, 

**Vauxhall Cross, Q:**

Its two days before anything happens.

In that time Q spends most of his time rewiring and adapting and not so quietly sniffling in dark corners. Its messy business, this apocalypse stuff and Q’s entirely sure he’s not cut out for it. It’s so easy to disconnect from everything and just lose himself in his world of algorithms and flashing screens, now they’re gone he’s not sure how to function. 

Mallory (they’ve done away with codenames – the world’s ended after all, but Q hasn’t been _Neil_ for so long that it doesn’t sound right anymore) paces like a wild animal, he wants to be up there, fighting, helping. Q wonders if it reminds Mallory too forcefully of Ireland, of being imprisoned. Eve sits, calm and collected and busies herself with checking their supplies and weapons are all in working order. Q could hack in to the building’s mainframe but they’ve talked about it – they don’t know what the surface is like, if it was gas or a biological agent they’d lose their shelter. 

They have an oxygen garden in the basement. It’s enough to support them for a while.

They haven’t been able to get the CCTV images back, or anything on the emergency broadcast channels or radio.

“What if it’s just us?” he asks quietly after another failed attempt at contacting anyone. “What if we’re literally the only ones left alive.” His breath hitches a little and he’s biting back things he’ll probably never say like ( _Oh god, my family’s dead and everyone I ever knew and my flat and James_ ) It’s stupid, he knows that, but the worlds ending and if that’s not a valid reason to fall apart he’s not sure what is. 

“We can’t be the only ones who survived,” Mallory says.

And Eve adds, “I bet Bond survived. Death never seems to stick long for him.” She smiles beautifully and goes back to organising their rations. 

They don’t talk about Tanner. 

He smiles weakly and nods. It doesn’t really comfort him though. All those people screaming, running, dying, _no one could survive_. James would laugh at him if he was here, run his knuckles across Q’s cheek and tell him to toughen up with that stupid, crooked, grin of his.

That thought makes something twists painfully in his gut. 

“We should go up,” Mallory says, on the morning of the second day. “We need to go up, we can’t just hide down here.”

“Respectfully, sir, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Eve interrupts.

He holds up a hand, “The world may have ended; Eve, but I still outrank you. We have radiation suits and Geiger counters and comms equipment. We need to find out what’s going on up there!”

Q wants to point out that he’s just fine waiting down here but his inner James is very instant that Mallory’s right. There could be people up there that need help.

Eve is still unconvinced. “What’s the point in going up there? If there’s no one, what’s the point in us dying too?” her voice shakes a little, but she doesn’t back down. “Someone might try and contact us.”

Q watches their stalemate with awe. Eve, he thinks, is like a tiger, beautiful and dangerous, anger rippling below her skin, ready to burst out. Mallory is a wolf, stoic and unmoved but just as vicious. To his surprise it’s Mallory who blinks and turns his head away, “We need to go up there, Eve. You two can stay here if you wish, but I _need_ to go up there.”

Eve’s eyes darken; she runs her tongue across her dry lips. “Fine,” she spits eventually. “But I’ll go with you. Q stays here. We go out, we come back. _Tomorrow_. Deal?”

Mallory inclines his head; Eve nods and slinks away, presumably to brood. Mallory sits back down and slowly, methodically takes apart his gun and rebuilds it. He’s been doing that a lot lately. Q thinks it’s to keep him sane (it’s why he keeps rewiring and rebuilding monitors and connections and radios – it’s only been two days he shudders to think how they’ll be after a _week_.) 

Q goes back to scanning the airwaves for any sign of life and tries not to think about the tension hanging thickly over them, suffocating like a blanket.

He almost has a heart attack when the signal comes through. 

A steady pattern. 

Someone else is out there.

“It’s Morse code!” he half sobs. (He’s not crying. He’s _not._ )

Mallory and Eve are at his side in an instant, leaning over his shoulders. Eve woops and Mallory lets out a breathy laugh of excitement. “Can we reply?”

“Of course!” Q taps away, fiddles with the computer a little. Sends out a reply. _Where are you?_ He sends.

 _What if it’s an old signal? What if they’re already dead?_ His brain helpfully asks. His heart clenches. It’s only been _two days_.

“Who is it, do you think?” Mallory asks.

“Could be anyone,” Eve says, “Loads of people know Morse code nowadays.” 

“Yes, but not many people know how to send a distress signal this way,” Q hums as his fingers glide over the keyboard. This is good. This he can do. 

_Thames House_ ; comes the reply.

“Bloody hell,” Mallory breaths, “Five survived too?” 

Q’s not sure if Mallory’s disappointed or excited. Five and Six have never been on the best of terms, inter-agency rivalry and all that.

 _Five?_ Q sends.

The reply is almost immediate, _Six? How many of you?_

“Hang on,” Q says. “Hang on. This is a strong connection; if their monitor is as advanced as ours I might be able to establish face to face contact.” Their networks are connected after all. 

“Well go on then!” Mallory says, patting him on the shoulder. He’s excited. Definitely excited. 

He relays the message to Five, it takes him a few minutes to set up the connection but soon an image flickers on to their screen, grainy and pixalated but _godamn_ it’s good to see other people. A young, Asian man, an older man with short, receding brown hair and a woman with dark hair and warm blue eyes.

“Harry Pearce!” Mallory chuckles. Q’s heard of Pearce, he’s supposedly one of the best. “Knew you’d survive. Stubborn bastard.”

Pearce smiles slightly at that, “Mallory,” he greets. “Only you three?”

Q feels Mallory stiffen slightly, “Yes. How many of you made it?”

Pearce’s voice is faint, “Five. Have you been able to contact anyone else?”

“No, have you?” Mallory shakes his head.

Pearce sighs, “We know the Prime Minister is dead, the Royals too.”

“Christ,” Mallory mutters.

Eve leans forwards, over Q’s right shoulder. “Do you have any idea what actually happened? Were we attacked?”

“We really have no idea,” Pearce says, shaking his head. “If it was an attack it was worldwide and coordinated.”

The woman to Pearce’s left makes a small sound, “Who would want to do this to the world?” she murmers. 

Pearce glances at her, rubs her shoulder comfortingly. 

Mallory huffs out a sigh, “So what do we do now?”

“Maybe we should group up,” Eve suggests, “Pool our resources and intel.” 

The three officers from Five murmur together for a few moments. Q holds his breath (he’s not entirely sure why.) “Our place or yours?” Pearce says eventually.

*******

**Thames House, Lucas:**

When Lucas – _John_ – wakes up they tell him the worlds ended.

He doesn’t really believe them. The Russians tried this once, told him things that weren’t really true, told him London was gone, things like that. (Harry wouldn’t do that though.)

The thing is, he’s pretty sure his world was over long before the apocalypse. Maybe is ended in Dachau, maybe it ended in a Russian prison cell, maybe it ended on a roof top in London with the realisation that he has no idea who or _what_ he is anymore. 

Maybe he never did. 

Maybe that was the problem.

If he closes his eyes he can see it all at once. He can feel Vaughn’s gentle touch, the heat of the explosion, (hear the screams, smell the stench of burning flesh - _oh god, what’s he done_ ), he can feel Lucas (the _real_ Lucas North, his   
friend) go limp within his grasp (his hands are warm, the taste of salty tears, the pounding of his heart) Vaughn helping him up ( _murderer_.) He can feel the needle splitting open his skin, the burn of the ink (a cross for every year) he can feel his bones being broken, his flesh being burnt, suffocated, drowned (the harsh Russian barked in his ear, _I don’t know anything_ he pleads, _I don’t know **anything**_ ) the harsh white light of the prison cell, the numbness, the pain (he just wants release, just wants something, just wants _something, **peace**_ , just wants peace) the roughness of the noose. He can feel Maya’s blood, slick and warm between his fingers, her limp body, ( _your fault, your fault_ ) he can feel Ruth struggle, he can feel the hollowness, the desperation, _he’s nothing_ , the wind in his hair (he’s stepping up onto the ledge, he’s ready, he can make this work) then there’s Harry’s arms encircling him, yanking him back, tears (his, Harry’s, he’s not sure) he struggles until his legs give out and his throat is raw and he falls, let’s himself be dragged back, dragged away. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._

And then he’s waking up on a scratchy cot and Harry’s pressing a warm mug of something into his hands. He drinks it all in one gulp – it could be poison for all that he knows (for all that he cares.)

“Why did you save me?” he asks quietly, avoids looking up at Harry who’s done so much for him.

( _He sent you to Russia, he left you to die - **no**_ )

Harry sighs. He looks more tired than usual. Maybe the world really has ended.

“You’re not a bad person, Lucas,” he says eventually.

He bristles at the name, “I’m not Lucas.”

“John, then,” Harry amends. But the name sounds wrong, feels wrong in his ears (he can hear Vaughn saying it - _It’ll be alright, John_. (People screaming, on fire, blown to bits)

“No,” he whispers, “I’m not John either.”

Harry stares at him for a few minutes, his mouth twisting as though he’s trying to figure out what to say next. Harry should have let him jump. It would have been a lot easier.

“Am I going to prison?” he tries to keep the fear out of his voice, schools his expression in to something more neutral. It doesn’t work. It comes out as a frightened whisper. (Harsh lights, harsh voices, _pain_.)

Harry shakes his head, “I told you, the world’s gone.” 

He stares at Harry. _How can the world be gone?_ but there’s no lie in Harry’s dark eyes, there’s no trace of cruelty. He wouldn’t lie. Not like _this._ “Wh-What?” he rasps.

Harry touches him on the shoulder lightly; he flinches away without quite knowing why. “Would you like to come upstairs? I can show you.” his words are careful, he’s treading on eggshells. 

“Who’s up there?” his mouth is dry, his chest feels tight. “What happened?”

“We’re not entirely sure,” Harry says. “It happened so quickly... Ruth’s up there, and Tariq and Dimitri.”

“Beth?”

Harry shakes his head.

He swallows. ( _Murderer. **Traitor**_ ) He can’t go up there. He can’t – He just wants to go, wind back time, jump before Harry can catch him. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want any of this. He doesn’t _deserve_ any of this. His mouth works soundlessly.

“It’s alright,” Harry says gently (but it’s _not_ ). “You can stay down here, I understand.” He walks across the room, to the cell door. “I can’t leave you down here alone though.” He adds.

Harry sends Dimitri who smiles weakly and situates himself across the room on a chair. For a while Dimitri lets him lie on the cot in silence, thoughts and memories scratching at him. After a while though Dimitri starts talking, he talks about the end of the world and what they saw, he talks about his family, his friends in the SAS, he talks about his life. He doesn’t expect a response, he just talks and he (because he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to refer to himself anymore, he’s not John anymore, he never was Lucas) is grateful; it gives him something to focus on other than the storm waging in his head.

Dimitri only stops talking when his throat begins to rasp. 

 

Eventually Harry comes back, smiles and pats Dimitri on the back, sends him off to get some rest. 

Harry hands him a Styrofoam cup of soup. 

“Who do you want to be?” Harry asks gently. Not what should I call you, _who_ do _you_ want to be.   
He’s never wanted to be John. 

“Lucas.” He says it without thinking because even though Lucas was just a lie he told to himself to help him sleep at night, Lucas was a good man. (The _real_ Lucas was too.)

Harry nods smiles a little. “Lucas.”

Lucas swallows and sips at the soup.

“Can I uncuff you?” Harry asks.

Lucas hadn’t even noticed the ankle cuff holding him to the bed. He nods, “I’m not going to kill myself,” he tries to smile weakly. “Or anyone else.”

Harry doesn’t look entirely convinced but he bends down and undoes the anklet anyway. “We need you to keep it together, Lucas.” He says when he straightens up. “Can you promise me that?”

 _No,_ Lucas thinks. He nods anyway. It’s what Harry wants him to say and he’s fairly sure the older man can read the truth in his eyes anyway.

“Come on then.” Harry stands, holds the cell door open for him.

Lucas is unsteady on his feet but he follows anyway. Dimitri is still awake, standing over Tariq’s shoulder, muttering together, they pause when he and Harry emerge. Dimitri smiles again, Tariq looks less optimistic. 

He ducks his head when he sees Ruth. Opens his mouth to apologise, but she holds up a hand. “Don’t.” She says curtly, “I’m just glad you’re still alive.”

“Well, one of us should be,” he says before he can stop himself.

She makes this strange half sob, half laugh. “I have to get this to Tariq,” she mumbles, pushing past him gently.

*******

He’s dozing when they make contact with Six. 

They’ve moved the cot into this room, along with the other two they’ve got. Harry said it was so they could shut off the other two rooms to save oxygen, Lucas knows it’s so he’s never on his own for longer than a few minutes. (It’s probably a good idea) They keep him busy; he doesn’t have time to think about anything other than finding other survivors.

Dimitri is asleep in the other cot, sprawled out and snoring.

Lucas isn’t sure he can sleep properly anymore.

Harry shakes them both awake (shakes Dimitri, nudges Lucas, they treat him like he’s made of glass) “The agents from Six are coming over to our building. We have more space and are better protected. They’ll be bringing over extra weapons and supplies; we need to send someone to meet them.”

Lucas knows before Harry’s finished speaking that he won’t be allowed to go and meet the agents and true enough Harry finishes by saying, “Dimitri and I will be going. Come on, suit up.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Five and Six join up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeee. I'm having so much fun with this fic. Next one will definitely be James' (I've started writing it, it should be up in the next few days) Please, please, please, do give me any feedback you have even if it's just pointing out any grammatical errors - it makes my day :)
> 
> Happy Christmas everyone :D
> 
> Also, since the only relationship atm is 00Q are there any suggestions for pairings? Let me know!

**Vauxhall Cross, Q:**

“I don’t understand why they can’t just come _here_ ,” Q grumbles. 

Eve smiles at him fondly, “I know, I know. You’re not a field agent. Think of it as a liaison. You’ve been to meetings with Five before, haven’t you?”

“Well, yes. But not _post-apocalyptic_ meetings!”

Mallory chuckles and tosses him a gun. “You can shoot, right?”

Q bristles as he slides the pistol into his holster. “You know I can.”

Mallory grins and Q knows he’s joking but there’s this underlining note of concern in Mallory’s voice that grates at Q’s nerves. He _knows_ he’s not as strong or brave or _used_ to this as Mallory and Eve but he’s not some wobbly civilian, he’s a trained agent and really, how different can this be from his usual job? If Bond, who’s held together mostly by copious amounts of alcohol and the occasional pity fuck Q throws his way, can deal with this on an almost daily basis so can he.

But he catches Eve’s hand trembling and it’s enough to remind him that this _isn’t_ an average mission and that they could very possibly die within minutes of leaving the building.

They’ve only got two clunky bio-hazard suits so Mallory’s going up first. He’s got a Geiger counter in one hand and Q’s managed to put together an impromptu air-analyser that’ll test for the basics, so he’s got that in his other. It takes them twenty minutes to clear a path up to the surface, he and Eve crouch behind the last pair of airtight doors, Mallory disappears for a few seconds.

Q can’t decide whether he wants the air to be clear or not. Its five minutes before they get the a-okay over the radio from Mallory. “Well,” he croaks, “Guess this is it. Our first step out in to the new world.”

Eve gives him a reassuring smile, touches his arm. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he grits out, shifts the rucksack full of ammo and food and water on his shoulders. Eve takes his arm, grasping gently and tugs him forward. He sort of wants to snap at her, he’s not a child after all, but then again he’s not sure he’d actually move if she wasn’t dragging him along.

The city is a wasteland. Here and there, amongst the crumbled buildings, fires still crackle. Burnt out husks of cars and vans litter the road, the sky is ashy, he winces when he sees the bodies scattered here and there. Eve must hear his sharp intake of breath because she clasps his shoulder and for a moment he leans against her, dizzy. He chokes a little on the stench of smoke and rot and _death._

They’ve trained for this, they’ve run scenarios and tests and spent forever theorising about the how’s and the when’s but Q never really thought it would happen. But it has and now he’s standing in the remnants of one of the greatest cities on Earth.

This is London.

 _Was_ London. 

Now it’s little more than a burnt out husk.

Mallory has tossed his bio-hazard suit away and Q looks at it for a few moments, wondering whether there’s any point in listing the reasons why they shouldn’t just leave it there. “Come on,” Mallory says gruffly. “Gas masks on.”

They follow him without a word.

Vauxhall Bridge is miraculously still standing; there are cracks in it, hunks of twisted metal that might have cars once, a chunk of it missing to the left. Q walks behind Eve and Mallory dazedly, this isn’t real.

It can’t be real. 

He averts his eyes from every corpse they see, wonders if maybe they should stop, bury them – or at least untangle them from the cars and buildings and whatever else they met their deaths in. He thinks he recognises some – a woman who worked in the Pret opposite the offices, a man he passed every day. Maybe he does, maybe he’s just reading too much in to it. 

Most of them are too burnt to know for sure.

“What happened?” he finds himself mumbling. “What happened? What _happened_?”

Eve turns back to him and there are tears in her eyes (or at least, he thinks they are because she blinks quickly and they’re gone.) “Come on, keep up, Q.” Mallory says, there’s harshness in his words. A soldier giving a difficult order. He thinks Mallory probably wants to bury each and every person they pass too. 

But he knows they can’t.

The Thames is quiet and slow moving as always. Still alive, Q thinks.

They meet the two agents from Five outside what used to be Tate. Q concentrates on listing every masterpiece that’s been destroyed (it’s easier to mourn paintings than people.) 

They greet each other gruffly, the agents from Five are still wearing their hazard suits, shapeless, anonymous. Mallory recognises the small of the two figures though, “Pearce,” he greets and his voice is dry.

Pearce nods, “Mallory.” He greets. Pearce’s voice doesn’t shake; he turns with military precision, his agent at his side. Mallory falls in to step behind him, Eve and Q trail after. Eve’s hands are trembling in a way that tells Q she needs to break something.

They reach Thames House quickly, march through the ruined entrance hall and down into the bowels of the building. When they get downstairs Mallory tears of his gas mask and tosses it across the room with a growl of frustration, cards his fingers through his short hair. Eve kicks over a desk, body shaking. 

Q just stands numbly.

Pearce waits patiently for Mallory and Eve to calm down, the rest of his agents assembled behind him. “I suppose we should get introductions out of the way first, shall we?” he says coolly.

A lesser man would think him unaffected but Q’s always prided himself on his ability to read to people. Like the way he can look at Mallory and see the determination, the need to help, that holds back all his memories of Irish prison cells and pliers and starvation. And the way he can look at Eve and see the way her eyes roam around restlessly, her right hand always hovers over the holster at her hip. She might look calm, serene, but underneath she’s always ready to fight.

He glances around at agents from Five and reads their stories in their faces.

Harry Pearce is old, his eyes are older, he’s holding himself together because he has to. Because his team need him to, because his country needs him to. He’s taken too many hits to give up now. There’s a determination in his eyes that leaves Q a little in awe. “My name is Harry Pearce, I was head of Section D of MI5.” He says, business-like and smooth.

He introduces the woman next, Ruth Evershed, an analyst, who smiles weakly at him. She’s strong, he thinks, probably stronger than her team knows; her gaze is steady and there’s still warmth there even though she must have seen her fair share of death and pain. Next is the agent who accompanied Pearce to meet them, Dimitri smiles and nods. Determination, bravery. He must be a fairly new agent, not inexperienced, just new. Or maybe he’s just strong like Harry and Ruth. Like Eve and Mallory. Tariq is young, like Q, a techno-wizard, not a field agent. He’s holding himself together better than Q is. 

Lastly is Lucas North who nods curtly. Q doesn’t miss the slight flinch when Pearce calls him Lucas, or the fact that Lucas is definitely a few shades paler than he should be. There’s so much roiling in Lucas’ eyes that Q looks away (pain, hurt, guilt, fear) but none of flickers to the surface, it’s all carefully hidden. Q’s not sure if he should be impressed or terrified.

Mallory introduces them all in a similar manner but Q notices he leaves out the part about being head of MI6. Maybe it’s easier for Mallory to fall in behind Pearce, easier for everyone, no battles for power.

“Right, now we all know each other I think it’s time we worked on finding out what the hell happened up there,” Pearce says. “First things first, we need to pool our data.”


	5. December 25th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we finally hear from James and Q and the others have a Christmas drink. Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for all the feedback! It's really awesome :)
> 
> A few things:
> 
> 1\. This is copied over from my iPad so forgive any formatting errors
> 
> 2\. A few of you have said you don't watch Spooks so would doing a character profile thing help? Or are you content with google?
> 
> Next chapter should be up soon and our spies will finally venture out in to the world!
> 
> Enjoy, as always, unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.

Contrary to popular belief, James Bond does not spend his days off driving very fast expensive cars and cavorting with beautiful women (mainly because he seems to spend much of his professional life doing just that.) 

 

In fact on that day, the day the world had ended, he had been shopping (because yes, even super secret double-oh agents need to shop) Well, he'd been _attempting_ to shop. He'd actually been having a very intense standoff with a self check-out machine in Sainsbury's; he'd been optimistically buying dinner for two in case Q decided to stop pretending that they didn't like each other. 

 

The first explosion had knocked him sideways. 

 

When he came to people were screaming ( _business as usual_ ) his ears were ringing, his hand went to the non-existent gun at his belt (he'd left it on the kitchen table thinking _who needs a gun at Sainsbury's?_ very unprofessional of him) Which really was very unprofessional of him, he's fairly sure this is Eve's fault somehow anyway, most bad things that happen to him nowadays are (like that time Eve talked Q in to hacking in to Bond's phone and changing all his songs to Taylor Swift.) He wasn't expecting it to be the end of the world though.

 

At the most he thought it was terrorist attack (although why terrorists would attack a Sainsbury's Local in Chelsea Bond hadn't the foggiest) but when he'd finally scrambled to his feet the shop front had caved in and a second blast tore through the structure, throwing him back down.

 

Bond had always sort of imagined that when the apocalypse finally came (or at least the moment of his own death) he'd go out in a, no doubt messy, blaze of glory (or at least an alcoholic coma) not spread-eagled in a pile of Mars bars and scattered Malteasers. He can almost hear Eve and Q chuckling above him. _Tired, are we Bond?_ Yes. He is, thank you. 

 

When he next wakes up there's a man shaking him. 

 

"Are you alive?" 

 

"No," he mumbles. 

 

The man sits back on heels. James thinks he might have met him somewhere before. He has the look of a military man, calm blue eyes, dark hair cut short, there's a pistol in his hand and Bond eyes it warily. 

 

"It's all right," the man says. "I'm security services. Or at least I was." He hands Bond a a very sooty back of quickly defrosting peas and Bond presses it absentmindedly to his forehead. 

 

"So that's where I recognise you from then," he murmurs. "You're one of Harry's men."

 

The man glances up at him, a flicker of surprise registering in his blue eyes before its neatly tucked away under a curtain of cool blue. "You're not from Five and you're certainly not GCHQ. Who are you, Six?"

 

Bond gives the man his best grin. "Double-Oh-Seven." He extends a hand.

 

The man looks him up and down, quirks an eyebrow and James honestly isn't sure whether he's impressed or disappointed. "Tom Quinn." He says after a long while.

 

"That your real name?"

 

The man's lips quirk up into a small smile. "Yes, actually. Do I get to know your name or do I just call you double-oh-seven?"

 

James sits up, smirks, surveys the damage (notes with a smirk that the self-service machine is in pieces-but no, he's not meant to be celebrating the destruction of a machine, no matter how frustrating it was) "Anyone else make it?" 

 

Quinn shakes his head and again there's only the barest flicker of emotion. "We should probably move."

 

James probably copes better than he should (maybe Q's right about him being slightly psychopathic) he's seen bodies and death and destruction before, not like this, but still. Quinn seems to cope well too but James catches the clench of his jaw, the tremor in his hands as they drag bodies out of the way. "Where do you think we should go?" Quinn asks.

 

Again with _we_. James wants to say they should go to Vauxhall Cross, to find Q and Eve, maybe Tanner, maybe M, but on the second day they meet a group of walkers coming from central London. They say it’s gone, all of it, just a pile of rusty metal and bricks, they say the airs still thick with smoke and ash and the stench of death. It's sobering to say the least. If Six is gone James isn't an agent. He's been an agent so long he's not sure what that makes him. He's a person now, just like everyone else. No code names or exploding pens. No secret missions. No licence to kill. (Not that he's ever really needed one.)

 

They're camping under a bridge somewhere in East London, James isn't really sure why he's still travelling with Quinn, maybe it's just the comfort of knowing there's _someone_ there. (Even if that someone is more emotionally repressed than himself) They've been living off what they can scavenge from caved in shops and they've come across far too few people. It doesn't make sense but then again, the end of the world was never going to make sense. He's not even sure why they're still in London. They walk the city during the day, maybe James is looking for Q or Eve or anyone really, maybe Quinn is doing the same, he does wear a wedding band after all. He fiddles with it occasionally, twisting it round and round. 

 

"Did you have someone?" Quinn asks, staring into the fire they've built. "Before all this, I mean."

 

James' immediate answer would have been no, but that's a lie. He has Q and Eve and Tanner (in as much as as spies and computer geniuses can _have_ each other anyway, he doesn't exactly know how to define his relationship with any of them though - he and Q have a thing and he and Eve have a different kind of thing and _friendship_ isn't enough to describe what he amped Tanner have) He settles for a non-committal grunt and Quinn chuckles. 

 

"Did you?" James asks finally, eyeing Quinn's wedding ring. 

 

Quinn nods mutely, clears his throat. "It's Christmas, you know." He says hollowly. 

 

James smiles a little, tries to picture Christmas dinner at Eve's apartment, her and him and Q, a couple of the agents from Q branch, maybe Tanner dropping by. It would have been interesting to say the least. "Merry Christmas, Tom."

 

Tom throws the empty cereal box into the fire. "Someone should have come by now." He says softly. "Army, your people, _someone_."

 

James hums, "Maybe there's no one left." It's a terrifying concept but it’s something he's had a few days to wrap his head around. It's the only logically explanation.

 

 _Merry fucking Christmas_.

*******

Q stares mournfully at his modified iPhone. He's brought it all the way from Vauxhall Cross only to realise belatedly that he'd left the charger behind in his office. _It would have been so useful_ , it had radars and pulsars and explosions and scanners. He never thought he'd miss Instagram and Angry Birds so much. 

 

"I could whistle the tune from it if you like," Tariq says brightly. They're sat in their impromptu dorm room, one of the holding cells - him and Eve and Tariq and Dimitri. Malory and Pearce and Ruth are still scanning the airwaves being solemn and Lucas is probably off brooding somewhere. 

 

"Though I'm fairly sure Dimitri would shoot me in the head," Tariq adds, swaying slightly.

 

Q likes Tariq. 

 

They're a little tipsy. Eve went through the whole of the office and gathered up all the alcohol she could because, well, just because the worlds ended doesn't mean Christmas shouldn't be celebrated. Even if it is in a cell full of army cots in a half caved in government building.  
"Oh, definitely," Dimitri agrees. "There's no excuse for Angry Birds, _ever_." 

 

"I think Angry Birds is _awesome_ ," Eve declares, taking another sip of scotch. " Temple Run is better though."

 

"Or Fruit Ninja," Tariq pipes in and Q laughs because this possibly the most ridiculous thing that's happened to him in his whole life. He stands, somewhat unsteadily, "Need to use the little boy's room," he says when Eve shoots him a questioning look. Five have their own water supply, it won't last forever so Q's going to take advantage of the working toilet facilities for as long as he can. 

 

He almost turns back when he opens the door to find Lucas bent over the sinks, head bowed, eyes closed. 

 

Of all the agents of Five Lucas is the only one Q is uneasy around. He's too quiet, too blank, too calm. The rest of Five tiptoe around him like he's a time bomb, watch him closely and Q wonders if they see anymore than he does. Lucas is the only one who never shakes, never breaks. He keeps everything nailed down beneath his skin until he's asleep when all his defences fall away and he writhes and moans and mumbles and not always in English.

 

Q eyes the intricate black crosses lining Lucas's pale skin. Russian Orthodox designs, the black words across his shoulder blades: _Dum spiro, spero._ Christ. Dimitri told him that Lucas got them in a Russian prison where he was held for _eight years_ Q can’t even wrap his head around that. Eight years in Russian prison. Lucas fascinates him. He looks back up to find Lucas watching him, unreadable. "Aren't you a little young to be Quartermaster?" He asks quietly.

 

Q scoffs, besides he's _a year_ older than Tariq. "What is it with you agents and age? You know it has no bearing on ability or expertise, right?"

 

Lucas actually smiles at that. "I know." He turns and pulls on his grey jumper. "Never thought I'd be here," he says quietly. 

 

"I don't think any of us did really," Q says leaning back against the door. "I doubt many people entertained post-apocalyptic fantasies."

 

The way Lucas smiles this time is different. "Yeah, I suppose not." And with that he gently pushes past Q and down the corridor.


	6. January 1st:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas sighs, "Well, at least it's not zombies."
> 
> Q thinks about the evening he, Eve and Sonya from Q branch spent watching _The Walking Dead_ while James grumbled at them to keep it down from bedroom. He smiles, "Yes. There is that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't been replying to comments much guys, I've got my hands full with uni work right now (shouldn't even be updating this really but oh well!)
> 
> Thanks a bunch for all the support :D
> 
> Apologies in advanced for any grammer/spelling/formatting errors I uploaded this from my ipad which I've never done before.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Lucas:**

 

Lucas isn't entirely sure what they stand to gain from hooking up with what appear to be the last three MI6 operatives on earth (but then he doesn't really get what they stand to gain from _surviving_ in this world) but no one seems to ask him anything anymore. They're probably too afraid in case he falls apart.

 

Lucas isn't sure that he wouldn't (he's not even sure if he's _Lucas_ anymore but he's not John - not anymore - so that’s got to count for something) He quite likes Q and Eve (even if she does terrify him) and he's glad that there are people here who don't know what he did. He can't even look his own people in the eye (he's fairly sure he _would_ break if he saw their hatred, their disappointment, their fear.) 

 

They haven't talked about it.

 

The thing.

 

The John Bateman incident. 

 

He keeps waiting for someone to bring it up but no one ever does. It's sort of strangling him. 

 

He wonders if they'll ever bring it up. He wonders if it even matters anymore. He wonders if Harry will ever debrief Q and Eve. He knows he's already debriefed Mallory. Or he's at least been told _something_. Unless Lucas just radiates untrustworthiness. 

 

The man knows about Russia, that much is clear (but then he's fairly sure they _all_ know about Russia) Lucas could see the recognition in the man's steady gaze when he saw Lucas' tattoos. Dimitri's told him a little bit about Mallory's background, about Ireland. Lucas likes to think that he could tell before that though, a sort recognition of another damaged soul. Maybe that's why Mallory doesn't like him. Maybe the man sees too much of his pain in him, maybe he sees what he could have become if he'd been held longer than three months. 

 

Or maybe he's just a good judge of character. 

 

He wonders how long it was before Mallory could sleep through the night. 

 

He's sitting in the bathroom. It's the only place he can actually be alone. They only have a few rooms as it is; Harry's office, the main grid room, the bunk room downstairs but even so. Lucas has the sneaking suspicion that Harry's still got him on some awkward form of suicide watch. Luckily though Dimitri and Tariq are asleep and Harry, Ruth and Mallory are having a Serious Talk in Harry's office (and Lucas should _be_ there but he's fairly sure if he walked in they'd stop talking about possible long-term apocalypse survival strategies) and Q's a little too absorbed in hacking into satellites to play babysitter.

 

It's driving Lucas crazy. They don't have anything to do other than sit around and wait for something to happen.

 

He jumps when the door swings open and _of course_ it would be Mallory. 

 

Lucas schools his features in to something less like embarrassment at being caught lurking in the bathroom _again_ , a little more like disinterest as Mallory stares at him. "Lucas." He greets, curtly. 

 

"Mallory," Lucas nods.

 

Mallory twists his mouth. He keeps trying to get them to call him Gareth because ranks and seniority mean nothing now (even though Q clings to his code name like he's too scared to go back to who he was before Six) but Lucas just doesn't feel right using the man's first name when he barely knows him. 

 

There's this awkward standoff between them and Lucas backs down because it's the right thing to do. He huffs, gathers the frayed remainder of his dignity and goes to sulk at Q's desk.

*******

**Q:**

 

"This doesn't make _sense_." He growls, runs a hand through his hair in frustration. 

 

He's hacked into what is apparently the only satellite still in orbit with a camera powerful enough to show cities. It shouldn't have taken him this long but there's something, some unknown force, that's causing havoc with the airwaves. Through the satellites' images he's managed to establish the most of the world's major cities are gone, smoking craters or massive piles of concrete, glass and metal. Other countries like Vietnam, Bangladesh, the Netherlands, most of Denmark, are underwater. Volcanos, tidal waves, tsunamis, hurricanes, blizzards. The world is gone.

 

Lucas is beside him, perched on the desk. "It's the end of the world, Q. It's not supposed to make sense." He says hollowly. 

 

Lucas has decided that he likes Q and Q thinks he understands. The agents from Five treat him like he's made of glass and Mallory doesn't seem to trust him (Q thinks Mallory's been debriefed in full about what he's started calling The Lucas North Situation - he's still trying to figure out what went on then) and he's fairly sure Lucas is wary of Eve (as he should be.) So Lucas has taken to spending a lot of time sitting quietly beside Q and listening to him natter. 

 

It works for both of them.

 

Q sighs, compared to Q Branch Section D is like the dark ages. He misses his office and his fancy toys and his fellow geniuses (he shudders when he remembers that most of them are likely dead). "No, but there should be some _reason_. War, global warming, plague, _something_. Apocalypses don't just _happen_."

 

Lucas smiles wryly, "I think practically every religion ever would disagree with you." 

 

And it sounds like something James would say and - no, he's not crying, that's just got dust in his eyes. To his credit Lucas doesn't say anything about it, becoming suddenly fascinated by a hole in his jeans. When Q's regained himself a bit he says, "I just mean that it's like everything's already happened, like the sea levels are rising and world war three all happened at once in one nanosecond."

 

Lucas sighs, "Well, at least it's not zombies."

 

Q thinks about the evening he, Eve and Sonya from Q branch spent watching _The Walking Dead_ while James grumbled at them to keep it down from bedroom. He smiles, "Yes. There is that."

 

There's a shuffle from behind them and the Eve is emerging from the bunk room, "It's New Years today," she says. She comes up and sits down beside Q, "Found anything?"

 

Q scrubs at his eyes, "Half of the world is dead and the other half is in chaos." 

 

Eve rolls her eyes, "We _know_ that."

 

"Yes, we'll technology here is sort of limited."

 

Lucas quirks an eyebrow, "Well, I'm sorry our post-apocalyptic technology doesn't live up to the glory of Q branch."

 

Eve chuckles and Q scowls while he tries to come up with a witty retort, luckily he's saved from the indignity of spluttering by the timely arrival of Harry, Mallory and Ruth. "Eve, could you go fetch Tariq and Dimitri." Mallory says his voice carefully steady. 

 

There's a sense that Something Very Important is going to happen and Q has this awful feeling he's not going to like it. 

 

"We're going up," Harry says grimly when Tariq and Dimitri have joined them. "We've got to move out."

 

Q's half expecting a flurry of disagreement but Eve merely sighs heavily and the Section D agents watch their head quietly. Q rolls his eyes, takes one for the team, "You want us to leave the warm, well ventilated bunker which has working plumbing and electricity to go up _there_?"

 

Mallory shoots him a sharp look and Harry glances at him, "I know it must seem counterproductive but we've got no choice. The generator will stop working soon."

 

Lucas frowns, "I thought we had enough power for six months."

 

Q _knows_ they should have enough power for six months. He's looked at the blueprints. They should have water for six months too. The system is pretty hardy, it's reinforced against nuclear explosions, Q doesn't want to go to the surface if whatever's happened up there has destroyed the generator. 

 

"We thought we did too," Mallory says. "But something's affecting it. And if the generator goes down..."

 

"We run out of oxygen," Eve finishes. 

 

Q sighs. Maybe surviving the apocalypse wasn't the best idea he's ever had.

*******

**007, somewhere in East London:**

 

"So which way do you think we should head?" Quinn asks.

 

They've decided to leave London finally, there's nothing much left there anyway and the streets are getting dangerous. It seems not everyone is coping with the end of all things as they are. Besides, there's nothing here for them. They went to central London - Vauxhall Cross was a charred pile of bricks and bones. James tried not to look too closely at the twisted metal lumps he thinks might have been glasses, the scrap of singed knitted fabric.

 

Quinn had clasped his shoulder, "I'm sorry."

 

And James had straightened up, flashed a wry smile (stiff upper lip and all that) "He would have hated all this anyway. Bit of a neat freak, all this blood and gore wouldn't have suited him." 

 

Quinn had smiled back weakly, patted his arm and headed over to check out the ruins for weapons. James had stood for a few minutes trying to convince himself that it was the acrid stench of death and decay that was making his eyes water.

 

But it had been Quinn's idea to leave London. James had looked questioningly at Quinn's ring and he'd shaken his head.

 

"If she's alive she won't still be here. She's far too clever for that." 

 

They didn't talk much usually. If they did it was always practical things ( _which way, what's that, duck, is that useful, does that man have a sledge hammer_ \- yes, that did actually happen.) And maybe it was the sight of those twisted glasses or maybe it was the vodka they'd found warming his belly and fuzzing up the world but he decided it was time to learn a little more about his brother-in-arms, or former arms in Quinn's case.

 

"What was her name?" he asked.

 

"Christine," Quinn replied, ducking his head a little. "She was uh," he broke off with a sad huff of laughter. "She was Christmas shopping. _God_ , it sounds so normal."

 

"Was she an agent too?" It was a guess but a good one. James knows from experience that the only ones who can stand other agents for an extended period of time are other agents.

 

"C.I.A. Formerly, anyway. We sort of ran our own security business after leaving he services though." 

 

That had been two nights ago. They'd been by Quinn's old place after that then across town to the ruins of James' home.

 

"We could head to Dover or somewhere, see if there are any boats," Quinn suggests. "Or maybe up towards Portsmouth or Hull. Or Hollyhead."

 

James sighs. He's shivering in an overturned train car wearing a heavy duty mac he pulled of some poor construction work with no head and one arm. He misses alcohol and women and Q. No, he misses alcohol and Q and women. Or Q and alcohol and women. He doesn't even know anymore. He _has_ alcohol, he supposes thinking of the half empty canteen of vodka in his rucksack (its winter, okay? And it keeps him warm.) He definitely misses showers and flashy suits and not being pathetic though. He hasn't been pathetic in a long time (and in his defence last time he was pathetic he'd just been shot in the chest and thrown off a train.)

 

He doesn't think there'll be boats to Europe anymore than Quinn does. 

 

"Your girl," he says, "Christine. If she got out is there anywhere she'd wait for you?"

 

Quinn stiffens a little, runs a hand through his short hair. "We didn't exactly make apocalypse plans, you know." He drops his raised hand to twist his wedding ring. "I don't know. Probably not." He says quietly. "Maybe Hull. We got married in Hull."

 

James quirks an eyebrow. "Romantic."

 

Quinn chuckles, "Not very."

 

James stands, “So, Hull then?”


	7. January 7th,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our spies wander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as per request here's a few character profiles of the Spooks gang, I've tried not to spoil too much should you consider watching it (which you _should_ even if it will break your heart) but some major spoilers are present. Since the story is centring around Lucas and Tom (and Q and James obv) I've been more detailed about them. If there's anything you're still unclear about don't hesitate to let me know! Anyone who doesn't want straight spoilers look away now.
> 
> Harry Pearce is in charge of Section D of Mi5 (counter terrorism unit) he's been around for _ever_ and he and Ruth have had a will-they-wont-they-thing going on for a while and oh, the angst.
> 
> Ruth: mostly works as an analyst. 
> 
> Tariq: is section D's tech wiz (he's also my frigging adorable)
> 
> Dimitri: former Marine, he's pretty much your standard field officer. 
> 
> Tom Quinn: former section head of section D (under Harry of course) He left in season 3 after having a crisis of conscious and almost compromising a mission. He married Christine (a CIA agent he was _involved_ with) and they ran their own security business (he's also been working for Harry on the sly) Tom had a rough time of things and oh, baby. I love him dearly. 
> 
> Now, Lucas North, the most painful thing to ever happen to me. Introduced in season 7, he'd been held in a Russian prison for 8 years and as if that wasn't painful enough in season everything goes to shit. Turns out Lucas isn't really Lucas, he used to be John Bateman. After uni John went to Dakar and ended up working for a guy called Vaughn who, long story short, asked him to deliver a bomb to the British Embassy which killed a load of people. To escape the authorities he killed his roommate, the real Lucas North and assumed his identity. So back in the present day Vaughn comes back and starts blackmailing him, shit goes down and Lucas, in desperation, ends up on the run from Mi5, along the way his girlfriend gets killed and Lucas blames Harry. He meets Harry on a roof and Harry talks Lucas out of killing him only Lucas kills himself instead.
> 
> Ergh. It's a lot more complicated and painful than that but like I said, I didn't want to spoil it too much for you :) anyway, on with the show!

**Q, somewhere in Chelsea**

"I miss tea," Q mutters woefully. "And the indoors, and pyjamas and technology."

Lucas shoots him an unamused look, "It's been one week, Q."

Q scowls, "I'm not a field agent." It's rather unnerving actually, how quickly they've adjusted to this life, his easily they've slipped into their new world. Q's not sure whether he should be impressed or terrified, he could never do that, march on and pretend like the world hasn't fallen apart. He's trying though. He knew there was a reason he wasn't a field agent.

"I never would have guessed," Lucas says with a grin.

Q glares at him. They've been on the surface for almost a week, wondering around London looking for... Well, Q's not entirely sure what they're looking for. What they have found is carnage. Broken buildings, bodies, burnt remnants. It seems impossible, this carnage. Nothing works on the surface, cars, trains, radios, theres nothing Q can find thats wrong with the machinery, things just don't _work_. They've stopped wearing their gas masks, the air seems clear enough even if the sky is still clogged with smoke. They're sheltering in what used to be a Tesco's Local basement, the shelves have been stripped and the only thing left behind are thinks like bleach and broken toys. 

The streets aren't safe at night - they learnt that the hard way.

Q's taken to calling them the Hollow Men, it might be the most obvious of Eliot references but hey, he's a tech geek, not a literature graduate. Them being the people who survived on the surface. Vicious things, as far from humanity as Q can imagine. They got attacked by a mob of them passing through Liverpool Street, lost most of their rations and got separated from Mallory, Pearce and Ruth. They're not all like that - the survivors but most of the normal people hide away, coming out only to gather supplies.

This the way the world ends, he supposes.

Eve drops in to their makeshift shelter with a soft thud and shrugs her rucksack off her shoulders. "Hey, boys." She says, smiles (and Q notices that today her smile is a little strained). She pulls a bag of rice out of her rucksack along with something that looks suspiciously like a tin of cat food.

He wrinkles his nose and she winks, "Just in case, right?" Then she tosses him a battered packet of Digestives and Q seriously considers kissing her.

"Ration those," Lucas warns. Q sticks his tongue out and continues unwrapping the biscuits.

"Did you find anything?" Lucas asks, snatching the biscuits from Q. He takes a few and hands the packet to Eve. He's been on edge since they moved out of Section D, they all are but Lucas more so, Q thinks its probably because he hasn't slept much. Now that they're all huddled together he supposes Lucas would have a hard time hiding his nightmares.

Eve shakes her head, "Nothing." She sighs, "How long do you think we should stay here?"

Lucas shrugs and Q looks up, "Where else would we go?"

"Somewhere with a port?" Eve suggests, "Might be able to get somewhere less..." She trails off.

"You really think anywhere else will be better?" Lucas mutters. 

Eve shoots him a look, "There's places that are bigger. Stands to reason they wouldn't be hit as hard." 

Lucas scoffs, "Might not even be boats." 

"It's better than skulking around here," Eve snarls.

Q sighs. Everyone's been at each others throats since they got split up, Q supposes the apocalypse will do that to you. Luckily the return of Dimitri and Tariq defuses the situation, they drop down one after another and Lucas and Eve both turn to them. "Find anything?" Lucas barks.

"No," Dimitri shakes his head, "But we may have to move shelters, I think we're being followed."

Q groans and eats another biscuit.

\------

**007, somewhere near Peterborough**

It should have only taken them three days to get to Hull, four days at the most but they've been avoiding travelling at night and staying off the main roads. It's not that they're worried about being attacked but there's this unspoken agreement between them not to cause anymore death. As it is its taken them six days just to get this far, James is convinced this is the most effort anyone's ever put into getting to Hull. 

If Hull is even there anymore. 

They're walking through a little shanti town, a small market in the middle. Broken tables and blankets piled high with the last vestiges of toys, newspapers, there's a little food here and there and clothes too, thick with the stench of death. James wrinkles his nose.

"We should probably see if we can trade for some food," Tom says (somewhere along the way he's become Tom rather than Quinn, James isn't entirely sure _when_ it happened but he's not entirely pleased - names often lead to attachment.) He's grown sort of fond of the ex-spook.

James nods, "Do we have anything worth trading?"

Tom un-shoulders his rucksack, rummages through it. "Got a spare pistol, a knife."

James sighs, "I suppose we can trade them, after all there's not much point in being armed to the teeth if we die of starvation."

Tom nods, "So what do you think we can get? Pet food or army rations?"

"Well, they taste about the same," James says and Tom chuckles wryly. "Let's have a look around."

They pass a rickety old table piled high with cuts of meat that definitely aren't cow or sheep or pig, James thinks he should feel something more than a mild revulsion at the stench. The man behind the table pats the rifle on his lap and James moves on. "What kind of meat is that, d'you think?" Tom wonders aloud. James turns back to him, eyebrow quirked and Tom visibly flinches at the realisation.

"I hear it tastes a little like pork," James says.

Tom gazes at him despairingly, "There is something very wrong with you." But he looks a little less like he's about throw up so James grins. In the end they manage to trade the spare pistol for a couple of cans of soup and baked beans, after existing mostly on cereal bars the can of Heinz soup is like a fucking gourmet feast. They've stopped for the night in what James thinks used to be a petrol station before someone blew it up. 

Tom is fiddling with his ring, "Talked to a man today," he says quietly. "He says there's boats in Hull. People have been sailing off for Europe and America. There's boats in Dover too."

James licks the last of the soup from the can, "Europe I could see, how do they think they'll reach America?" He tosses the empty can away and it clatters loudly across the floor. "Anyone make it back?"

Tom shakes his head, "He didn't say. Think Europe or America are any better off?"

"Doubt it."

Tom sighs, "What are you going to do when we get to Hull?"

James shrugs, poking at the embers of their fire. "Haven't the foggiest. Lets just get there."

\------

**Lucas, somewhere in London.**

Lucas growls a warning at the three boys tailing him, flashes his gun. The boys scarper and Lucas huffs, turning down an alleyway. They'd been following him for almost two hours and after losing their last hideout he really doesn't want to spend another night wandering around looking for another safe place to lie low. Especially since Q and Tariq are exhausted. Eve and Dimitri are coping better (or maybe they're just better at hiding their feelings) and Lucas? Well he's still a wreck.

He lingers in the alleyway for a few moments, just to make sure the boys aren't planning on coming back. He leans against the wall and sighs, letting his eyes slide shut. He's so goddamn tired.

He jumps at the sudden scrabbling sound to his left, spinning around and drawing his pistol in one fluid movement. There's a pile of boxes against the far wall, it's big enough to conceal a small person and Lucas really does not want to be jumped by some lowlife lurking in a pile of boxes so he advances slowly. The scrabbling noise comes again and Licas braces himself for an attack that doesn't come.

He kicks aside a box to find a pair of tiny amber eyes gazing fearfully back at him. The kitten mews pitifully. He lifts the kitten out of the pile and gives it a quick once over. It doesn't look hurt, it's painfully skinny though. Lucas knows he should probably just leave it be but whatever remnants of humanity he's managed to cling to wont let him. The kitten mews again. 

Lucas sighs, "I suppose you're hungry."

The kitten blinks at him and starts to purr.

"Well lucky for you my friend found some cat food the other day," he puts the kitten in the inner pocket of his long coat and heads out of the alley.

He takes a long route back to their new shelter (an overturned train car) just in case he's being followed and when he does reach it its almost nightfall and to make matters worse its just begun to snow. He's greeted by the familiar sound of Dimitri and Eve bickering, Tariq is asleep and Q is hunched over by their small fire in a sweatshirt two sizes too big. He dumps the kitten in Q's lap strides across to separate Eve and Dimitri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, about the kitten. Idk, the idea of Ben Whishaw and Richard Armitage coparenting a kitten just appeals to me.
> 
> Sorry it's short, next chapter things get serious!


	8. January 14th:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the feedback! I'm afraid I haven't replied to all comments, I've been crazy busy trying to sort out a term abroad at uni.
> 
> Next chapter things will get _interesting_ (mostly because _things_ happen) so this one's a short little bridger chapter. 
> 
> Also. Names for the kitten? Suggestions?
> 
> As always, unbeta'd and enjoy :)

**Q, Somewhere in Central London:**

"Dover," Eve suggests and Lucas glares at her like a moody child. They've decided at long last to leave London, they haven't found anything on Mallory, Pearce or Ruth and they're going stir crazy. The streets are getting less and less safe as the Hollow Men are getting bolder and Q's glad they're leaving, at least elsewhere they won't keep stumbling across memories.

"No," he says, scratching the kitten absentmindedly behind the ears. "Dover's mostly gone. A lot of it's under water, the rest of its been crushed by ferries." The kitten purrs contentedly. Honestly, Q hasn't even _asked_ about the evening Lucas slunk back in and deposited a small ball fluff in his lap. He's not entirely sure he wants to. Maybe it was Lucas' way of dealing with this, saving a helpless animal to make himself feel better. Maybe it was a way of stopping Q going mad (which he was because he is _not a field agent dammit_ , even Tariq seems to be better equipped then he is. He's trying. He can shoot, he knows first aid and survival techniques and what p,ants are okay to eat its just that he's never actually _done_ any of it. 

It's much easier from behind a screen.

Whatever the reason was Q's strangely grateful. 

"I heard there are boats in Portsmouth," Dimitri suggests, "Hull too."

"We could get to Europe," Tariq nods, "It's so much bigger, there must be somewhere we can get to that's still standing."

"There's rumours about a couple of towns surviving," Eve says carefully, looking to Q.

Q shrugs, "From the satellites it looks like most of the major cities have been destroyed but... It's possible. The world is a big place."

Dimitri nods, "And then what?"

"Then I suppose we just keep going." Eve says and Lucas huffs, stomping out of their tiny shelter (today it's the remnants of a corner shop) Eve glares after him and Tariq moves to follow but Dimitri catches his sleeve and shakes his head. They're used to this Lucas quietly defying Eve who has become their sort of de-facto leader, it suits her well, Q thinks. Maybe she should have stayed a field agent. 

"So are we all agreed?" She asks, glancing around at them. There's a murmur of agreement and Eve nods, "We'll leave tomorrow then?"

Q finds himself nodding, "We can use today to gather supplies? Plus I want to do a few more tests around the city." He's got a few things that were small enough to bring with him from Section D (his long dead modified iPhone being one of them.) 

"Good idea, take Lucas with you." 

Q gives her a mock salute, he's given up trying to convince her he doesn't need a baby sitter. Or maybe it's him that's babysitting Lucas. He's not really sure. Either way it's irksome, especially when Lucas is in such a beautiful mood like today. He stands just as Eve is dispatching Tariq and Dimitri to forage for supplies, grabs his rucksack and the messenger bag he's been using to carry the kitten around (he's not comfortable with leaving it alone - that was a thing right? You weren't supposed to leave them alone a lot for the first few weeks? Or was that puppies? Whatever. At least she wouldn't wander off or get eaten by warped individuals.) He scoops her up and deposits her into the grey bag, giving her a quick tickles as he does so before trudging outside to fetch Lucas.

Lucas is brooding against the shop front, coat collar pulled up against the cold winter wind. His hands are deep in his pockets but Q's willing to bet they're balled in to tight fists. He smiles as warmly as he can, "We're leaving tomorrow." 

Lucas nods, "Great." He says darkly. 

"I want to run a few more scans before we leave, come with me?" 

With a heavy sigh Lucas pushes himself off the wall, "Fine. Got your gas mask?"

They've mostly abandoned them, the air is usually clear but sometimes the wind picks up and the air is filled with thick ash and smog. Q nods and Lucas indicates for him to lead on. The ground is covered in a thick blanket of snow bringing with a kind of sick room hush, the only sound being the soft crunch of snow beneath their heavy boots and the occasional mew from Q's side bag. 

He pauses beside what the now crumpled sign proclaims was once a sixth form, now it's nothing more than a pile of ash and dust with only a thin covering of snow here and there; most of the roof was still in tact. "Wait," he calls and Lucas, a few paces ahead, pauses. "I want to take some samples." Lucas inclines his head and follows Q in to the wreckage. There's this weird thing Q's noticed in all the samples he's taken: there's nothing foreign in them, no accelerants, no corrosive material, no odd fragments of rock or minerals, no unusual elements. It's like everything decided to spontaneously combust in unison. There's no radiation in the air, no odd biological agents, nothing. 

He bends down and scrapes a little ash on to the dish, "They'll be okay, you know," he says quietly. "Mallory and Pearce and Ruth, I mean. They can look after themselves." This is how they work, he and Lucas, important conversations are had while facing away from each other. That way they can pretend its not really happening (or important.)

He hears Lucas sigh. "I know." 

The tiny machine whirs. "Besides, they'll have the same idea as we do." He doesn't mention the thing that Lucas is probably thinking: they've been looking for two weeks and yeah, London is big but its not _that_ big, at least not anymore. They should have found them by now, or at least found someone who'd seen them. They'd either left or... He glances up to find Lucas pacing, dragging his feet so that little clouds of brick dust billowed up around behind his boots.

"It's not that," Lucas says finally. "I mean, it is but it's not. I just..." He pauses, pivots and paces the other way. "I don't see the point."

Q turns back to the machine, "The point in what?"

"Leaving. Going to Europe. It's going to be the same over there. If we're going to die I'd rather do it here."

Q looks up at that, "We're not going to die."

Lucas laughs, a dark, broken sound. "You know before all this I wanted to die. Harry saved my life, god knows why. It wasn't worth saving, I've done enough to deserve death. The point is when I woke up the world had already ended for me but now there's no end. There's nothing. Just chaos and death. There is _nothing_ good left in this world Q. It's over. What's the point in prolonging the inevitable?"

Q curls a hand in to the messenger bag, strokes the kitten's fur. "It's not over," he says quietly. "It's not over because we're still alive."

The mews and Lucas blinks, "Have you named that thing yet?" He asks and the spell is broken. They're back to being spies. Spies aren't meant to have feelings.

\------

**007, Hull:**

"I'm sorry," he says, touching Tom's shoulder lightly.

Tom nods, "No, it wasn't - I shouldn't have -" he breaks off, takes a deep breath and blinks hard. "It was stupid of me to think..."

They've been in Hull for almost a week now. It was strange coming across whole chunks of it relatively untouched (even the apocalypse didn't want to spend an extended amount of time there apparently) What was left was mostly in chaos though, gangs and hustlers and worse. There were a few ships, board could be bought through bartering from what James had heard none of the boats had come back. They'd even found a house to shelter on the edge of the city, it had been ransacked, but there was a working fireplace and mattresses and the windows had already been boarded up.)

They hadn't found Christine.

"I mean why would she come here? If she was even..." He trails off.

James nods sympathetically and fidgets slightly, he's never been great with emotion. He can't even deal with his own grief, let alone someone else's. Case in point: when he found out that Mi6 was gone he drank an entire bottle of scotch in one night. That, he's been told, is an unhealthy way of coping. 

"Maybe she got on a boat?" He suggests.

Tom shakes his head. "It was stupid. She couldn't be here. The shopping centre she went to was dust when we saw it. There was no way she could have..."

James fidgets again, tries to recall how his friends dealt with grief, he can't think of anything good. "Why did you get married here?" He asks quietly.

Tom looks slightly surprised but then he chuckles quietly. "We'd been thinking about having a really fancy wedding, god knows we had the money. We were down here on business and uh, thought we'd finally write up guest-list and we just couldn't think of anyone. I mean both of our parents were dead or long gone and we didn't want to invite our employees or employers and we couldn't exactly invite our old friends. I think in the end the list came down to Christine's sister and an old friend of mine who is technically legally dead which would have been awkward. So we sort of realised there wasn't much point in a wedding and after a few bottles of posh champagne we decided to go for it."

James smiles a little, "Vegas style."

Tom laughs again, wipes at his eyes, "Y-yeah. Vegas style." 

James stands up and crosses to the slatted window while Tom composes himself. He glances down at the street, strewn with wreckage and abandoned cars. 

"So, what now?" Tom asks from somewhere behind him.

James sighs. "How do you feel about travelling?" 

He hears Tom move around, "We'll go to the docks tomorrow." He strides out of the room and when James turns he realises Tom's wedding ring is resting on the upturned box they've been using as a table.


	9. January 15th - January 25th:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which things go wrong spectacularly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY THINGS HAPPEN.
> 
> As always thanks a bunch for all the feedback!
> 
> Enjoy~

**Q, somewhere outside Braintree**

They've ground to a halt beside a motorway-side super market. They didn't find much on their last sweep across London and Lucas wants them off the main road as soon as possible. The Waitrose looks empty and is mostly still standing but they've sent Dimitri down to sweep the area just to be sure. There are a lot of empty cars in the car park as well as an over turned lorry. Dmitri materialises beside Eve and says, "As far as I can tell its empty."

Eve nods, "Well alright then. Lets see if there's anything left in there."

They pick their way across car park, stepping gingerly around the deep fissures in the cement; there's a pile of charred bodies off to one side and the only thing that keeps the nausea at bay is his finger's curled in the kitten's soft fur. The automatic doors have been propped open by a trolley and the words _take only what you need_ are sprayed across the shop front in red. "We should probably get in and out quickly," Lucas says as they clamber over the trolley. "Unless we want to run into more of Q's Hollow Men."

The shop is strangely orderly, there are a few shelves on the floor and some hastily mopped up blood stains and the whole place smells like rotten fruit and meat but aside from that it looks fairly well off. Q reaches in to the messenger bag and deposits the kitten on the floor; it yawns and stretches and starts busily cleaning itself. "Someone should probably play look out." Dimitri suggests. 

Eve nods, "You can. Tariq and I will start at this end, Lucas, you and Q start at the other end." There's a murmur if agreement and everyone spreads out between the aisles. Q thinks about putting the kitten back in the bag. Last time Q had a cat he was nineteen and he sort of just inherited it with the crappy beds it he was staying in. Fastidious little thing, it had refused to eat anything but fish flavoured cat food and he'd given it to his sort-of-but-not-really girlfriend. Luckily this kitten is less picky and seems perfectly content to just trot along after Lucas along the aisles. 

This is the first time Q's been alone with Lucas since the collapsed school and most of what Lucas said that day has been chasing itself around his brain. He figures its one of those things they should talk about more because that's what friends do, right? (Q's never really gone in for friends before his time at Mi6 and there were actually rules _against_ discussing personal matters there so he's never really done this.) He thinks it must have been the same at Five judging by the way Dimitri and Tariq look like they _want_ to say something to Lucas but never do. 

They start at the alcohol aisles; most of it is dried up on the floor amongst a piles of broken glass and Q watches the kitten pad amongst them, sniffing curiously. "Careful." He says to her, the last thing they need is to be removing shards of glass from the kitten's paws. The kitten glances up at him and winds herself around his legs.

Lucas hands him a few mini bottles of vodka. "For injuries." He clarifies gruffly and Q pretends not to notice him pocket a few other bottles. They move through the mostly empty aisles in silence, picking up a few bottles of water and packets of crisps (all of them are ready salted and Q stares mournfully at the empty space where _flavoured_ food once was.) They're picking through the few tins and packets of ready noodles that have Q reliving his university days that he decides to say something. 

"You said you wanted to die," he begins awkwardly and Lucas, who appears to be comparing the ingredients of instant rice freezes.

He spins to face Q, an incredulous look on his face and spreads his hands. "Really? You want to do this _here?_ " And Q will admit, before the world went to shit the canned food aisle of Waitrose wouldn't be the ideal place to have this conversation but the world _has_ gone to shit and Q thinks that if Lucas is planning on taking a bullet to the brain or throw himself dramatically off something very tall Q thinks he has a right to know. At least just as an advanced warning kind of thing.

Lucas sighs and watches the kitten bat at an empty noodle packet, "I'm not going to shoot myself, Q." He says heavily.

Q thinks this is the part where he's supposed to say something encouraging but he's not entirely sure what or how so instead he fidgets and nods. This is usually the part where someone says something like " _you know you can always talk to me_ " or " _I'm here for you_ " but Lucas is already walking away so Q figures he'll have to go without. 

They meet up with Eve and Tariq in the middle of the shop (the baby aisle as it turns out) and Tariq is waving a huge bar of Dairy Milk and a packet of Rice Krispie Squares. 

 

**007, Hull port**

The port had been all but destroyed. What was left were a few rickety boards held together, boats were anchored to rocks that jutted out of the sea. It was, in James' humble opinion, a little bit of a safety hazard.

The few boats that are docked are small, mostly yachts, boats that could be rowed. The apocalypse seemed to have disagreed with technology. The largest was docked further out, a proper sailing vessel the kind of which James had dreamt about captaining in his youth. It has almost certainly been stolen but James supposes under the current circumstances it can be forgiven. Tom is talking with the captains of the various vessels (he's learnt quickly that James isn't the best people person, unless they're women or international super villains of course) James watches as he chats to the "owner" of the largest ship. 

Tom walks back to him slowly, "He's heading to America," he says. "Or so he hopes anyway, he's leaving the day after tomorrow. All he wants for passage is people who can work and supplies."

James nods slowly. "He'll never make it to America."

"Oh, ye of little faith," Tom smiles. "You're probably right but its the safest vessel docked here."

James hums and Tom continues, "Although you do realise that in all likelihood we'll end up starving to death when the supplies run out or capsizing in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, right? You don't have to come with me, you know."  
"Once I was shot in the chest off a high speed train crossing a bridge. I fell a few hundred feet in to an extremely fast river and didn't wash up on land for two days and I survived. A little trip across the ocean will be nothing in comparison."

Tom blinks, "Maybe I chose the wrong secret service to join."

 

**Q, a ten miles outside of Hull**

They're crouched in an upside truck, its the only shelter they've been able to find. It's risky to be camping on the main road but the forest that borders it is deep and dark and the kind of place they could easily get lost in. Snow covers the ground thickly outside and it's still falling, the kind of snow fall they never usually see in England. Q shudders and tugs the thin blanket closer around his shoulders. Eve is snoozing in the far corner and Tariq is pulling a shoelace for the kitten. Lucas and Dimitri are out scouting.

They've been walking for almost two weeks. They've been followed for almost two days.

They were warned about it in the ramshackle market in Peterborough, the gangs that roamed the roads, main and country alike, waiting for an opportunity to rob them and no doubt slit their throats. Lucas and Dimitri drop back in to the truck one after another.

"They're camped out a on a back road about a mile back," Dimitri says grimly.

Tariq snorts, "You would have thought they would have given up by now. They'll be pretty upset when they finally slaughter us and realise all we have are a few tins of soup."

"Maybe they want the cat," Q suggests.

Dimitri glares at the kitten, "They're welcome to her." He was the only one seemingly immune to the little cat's charms.

"You don't mean that," Tariq says, scooping the kitten up to thrust her in Dimitri's face. " _Look_ at her."

Dimitri pulls a face and Q chuckles. "I'll take first watch," Lucas says from his corner. Q's noticed that Lucas offers to take most of the watch shifts since he only seems to sleep when he's dead on his feet. Like today.

"No," Q says firmly. " _You're_ going to sleep. I'll take first watch."

Luckily Lucas seems too tired to protest and Dimitri and Tariq just seem glad not to have to stay up. They fall asleep quickly despite the cold and Q is left with only the kitten for company.

He's pretty content until he hears the footsteps, crunching loudly in the snow.

_Shit._

He wakes the others with sharp kicks and Eve leans up to peer out. "They're a little way off," she hisses. "We have to move. _Now._ "

"They might not know we're here," Lucas murmurs groggily. "We could sit tight."

"They'll search here," Dimitri argues. "They'll find us, we'll be boxed in and they outnumber us two to one."

Lucas sighs and nods. "Head for the woods?"

"Head for the woods," Eve confirms. She scrambles out soundlessly, easily as breathing and Tariq follows without a word. Q grabs up the kitten and shushes her protests, pushing her into the bag. 

"Where are your gloves?" Lucas whispers as Dimitri clambers up gingerly. 

Q flushes a little, he'd lost them a few days back, the last time they'd had to leave their shelter in a hurry. Lucas glares at him and shoves his gloves in to Q's hands. "You'll get cold!" Q protests.

"I was imprisoned for eight years in Russia. I can cope with the cold," Lucas says gruffly as he hoists himself out of the truck. 

Q follows him and drops down beside him, wincing at the loud crunch of snow as he lands. They're crouching in the snow behind the lorry and Q can hear the murmurs of the men coming down the road on the other side. They're chattering, laughing, popping open car boots as they pass, searching them out. Q shudders involuntarily. 

"We're going to have to run," Lucas mouths.

Q bites back a groan. He hates running at the best of times.

Eve nods, indicates that Dimitri and Tariq will go first, then Lucas and her and Q. They know the plan if they're separated, they're always prepared. Hide out for the night and then double back to where they split up in the morning or failing that meet up in Hull, hunker down, put a sign in the window and wait. 

He curls a hand through the kittens fur and takes a breath.

 _Now_ , Eve mouths.

It's pandemonium.

Quite literally. 

As soon as Dimitri and Tariq break cover there's a cacophony of yells and sporadic gun fire. Lucas grabs Q by the collar and suddenly he's being dragged through the snow. 

He's lost sight of Tariq and Dimitri and he thinks he can hear Eve yelling _something_ but then a bullet whizzes past and Q feels it burn white hot across his forehead. The impact has him flying back, the kitten yowling in his back.

He lands with a soft thud and something warm spreads across his forehead.

Lucas turns to him and as he does so a bullet thuds in to his chest. He staggers and Q thinks he can hear himself yelling but Lucas is still standing, still firing, covering _him_ Q realises blearily.

Then Eve is there again, exploding out of the snow like an irate tiger and snatching him up to thrust him behind a car. Her eyes are wide and she's wiping away the blood, "Oh, thank god." She whispers. "Just a graze."

Q's just getting his breath back, "Where are.. Where are the others?"

Eve shakes her head, presses a finger to her lips. The gun fire is dying down and Q slips a hand in to the bag to pull the kitten out; remarkably she's grumpy but unharmed. It takes a few moments but eventually his brain starts up again. He glances around to find Eve's pistol perilously close to his face.

"Careful with that," he hisses, eyeing the pistol warily.

"I'm an excellent shot," she hisses back, eyes narrowed.

"You did accidentally shoot Bond once."

She kicks him, "Who said it was an accident?" She leans up a little, peering through the filthy car windows. "I think they're gone."

"Yeah," Q mutters. "Gone after Lucas or Dimitri and Tariq!" The kitten wriggles in Q's lap.

Eve shoots him a look, "They'll be okay. We'll meet them in Hull, or at least on the way. They know where we were heading." She says calmly, holstering her pistol. "We should lay low tonight. Move out in the morning."

"They might be injured!" Q hisses (he can't stop replaying that spray of red from Lucas' chest.)

"Yes, but we won't be any good to them dead, Q!" And there's this undercurrent of urgency in her voice that Q's never heard before. "Besides," she adds softly. "We need to clean that up."

"It's just a scratch," Q mumbles as she pulls out a tube of savalon.

She sighs, "They'll be fine, Q." 

Q's not sure he believes her.


	10. January 27th

**Ruth, Central London.**

"I told you," Mallory says bleakly. "They're long gone." He looks strange like this, Ruth thinks, pacing and searching and rippling with tension. "We should never have left them."

"Yes, well we were a bit _tied up_ ," Harry snaps.

"They'll be okay," Ruth says, trying desperately to diffuse the situation. They don't need to fall apart now, not when things are going so well. 

"She's right," Harry agrees, giving Mallory a measured look. "There's no point fighting about it. Not anymore."

Mallory sighs, kicks at the ground, "I know. But they're..." He casts around for the word, "Q and Eve are my responsibility. They're my agents, my people."

"They'll be okay," Harry repeats. "We can find them eventually but for now we've got our own things to worry about." 

Ruth would be lying if she said she didn't feel the same way as Mallory did about Tariq, Dimitri and Lucas but Harry's right. They can't just drop everything and troop off out of London without any ideas of where the others are heading. Mallory exhales and nods, turning back towards the museum they've been sheltering in. It's ridiculous really, when she was a child she would have loved to live in the British Museum, now she'd give anything to be back in her cramped little house with her cat.

The archives underneath it have proved to be a magnificent shelter and its not just them. They've gathered quite a little community together down there. 

They had been held by a group of men, caught as they were scavenging in an old shopping centre, that's why they lost the others, the others got away. The men had robbed them and locked them in the basement of the old pub the men had been hiding out in. It had taken them three days to escape and another few wandering around before realising it was hopeless. The others would keep moving, they'd never catch up with them. That's when they'd found the museum.

The upper levels had been almost completely destroyed but they'd found a well hidden door that lead down to the archives.

There'd already been a family sheltering there, a family Mallory knew. Tanner, the guy's name was, him and his two kids. Their mother was nowhere to be seen. It had made her think about Nico, whether Greece had been hit this hard. People had been joining them in dribs and drabs - it wasn't like they were short of space or anything. It wasn't everyone they came across that they brought back to the museum, only the ones they could trust. 

"It's time to try and rebuild society," Harry had said and Mallory (and pretty much everyone with them had agreed)

And it was almost like a little society; they had their leaders - Harry and Mallory, their hunters, gathers, even a sort of schooling system (though it was mainly about survival and combat skills) but it was better than nothing, they had a doctor and two nurses, even an MP all crammed together down there. And it was working - if shakily.

When they had stuff better organised here they could head out and find the others. They were alive, they had to be, it was just a matter of finding out where they'd gone.

\-----

**Q, somewhere outside Hull:**

"We can't stay any longer," Eve says, pushing off the car she was lounging against. "We're too exposed out here."

"We have to wait for Lucas," Dimitri says. They bicker a little but most of what they say washes over Q like white noise because now this all feels so _real._ (It was real before but now it's real in a _different_ way.) Lucas could be dead. And Q had been there. And all he could think about was how he hadn't been there for James (if James was indeed dead - which is the most logical assumption.) Its been two been two days since they were jumped. Two days since they lost Lucas.

He's thinking about how much time he'd spend mindlessly dithering over things like how different brands of herbal tea differed and whether Eve would be less likely to steal Jaffa Cakes or Rich Teas from his desk. He's thinking about how he used to kill people with his computer like it was some sort of mindless game.

He's thinking about blood on snow and gloveless hands.

He's brought back to reality by the kitten swatting at his hand with tiny needle-claws. He jerks a little and glances around, Tariq's next to him, perched on the over-turned truck they'd sheltered in, he looks like Q feels; hollowed out and _exhausted_. He's picking morosely at a whole in his jeans and Q puts a gentling hand on his shoulder.

Eve and Dimitri are still bickering. "This is the second day we've come back here," Eve spits. "He's not coming back. We should head to Hull. He'll probably be there waiting." 

"He could be _injured_ ," Dimitri insists. "Q said -"

"I know what Q said! We've searched the woods as best we can, you _know_ this is the right call!"

Dimitri sets his jaw and turns away from her. 

"If we leave now we can camp at that old hut we found and we'll make it to Hull by tomorrow afternoon," Q points out helpfully. 

Dimitri glares at him but inclines his head (bows away to the alpha) Eve nods, "Come on then. We better get moving."

They walk in silence, heading off the main road and in to the forests surrounding it. A fresh blanket of snow has covered their previous tracks but Dimitri takes point and Q trusts him to lead them back to the hunter's cabin they'd stumbled upon the night previously.

Q ends upbringing up the rear, jumping at every rustle, every snapping twig. He's giving the kitten to Tariq to carry and his side feels abnormally cold without her warmth.

He's ninety percent sure they're being followed.

There's someone dogging their steps, quite expertly. It's only when he glances back and sees a a shadow break away from the trees and drops back a little, disappearing again. He moves forwards a little, pretends to stumble and grasps Eve sleeve as he does so, "We're being followed again," he hisses. 

Eve nods like she already knew and hey, maybe she did. "We'll try and shake them."

Q wishes she hadn't used the word _try_ or _them._

They take a winding route to the hut and Q thinks (hopes) they've lost their tail. The hut feels too big (two rooms, way more space then they've had for ages) Eve paces and Dimitri sulks and Tariq falls into an uneasy sleep as the kitten plays across the floor, chasing shadows.

The room feels empty without Lucas brooding in the corner.

Q can't sleep because he can't stop replaying those men firing guns and the think of the bullet as it hit Lucas' chest (James got shot in the chest too, a long time ago). He rubs absently at the scabbed over graze on his forehead and fiddles with Lucas' gloves.

\-----

**Lucas, ???**

The snow crunches softly under his feet.

(There's a bullet burning in his chest - his whole body is screaming at him)

He's shivering (he's cold, bone deep cold) and tired, and hungry, and bleeding. (There's a drib-drab trail of red behind him) 

It's snowing again, the thick heavy flakes that muffle everything.

(Step, breathe, step, breathe.)

It's easy to disconnect.

To numb the pain.

He's done it for years.

(They cut him and burnt him and held him down and took him apart. He's still standing. Even if it is just barely.)

Step. Breathe. Step. Breathe.

His head is pounding. 

He used his scarf to bind his wound the best he could but his fingers were numb from cold and it was clumsy, not tight enough.

He's got a cough now too.

A trembling fever.

He just keeps walking. 

(If he lies down, he'll die. If he goes to sleep, he'll die.

That's what he wanted - isn't it?)

There's a numbness creeping through his legs.

_Step. Breathe. Step. Breathe._

(He can't die, not until he knows whether the others are okay.)

Get to Hull, his brain says. _Get to Hull._

He doesn't even know if he's going the right way anymore.

He just keeps _walking._

He can hear voices.

They're shouting and deep inside he groans because he's fairly sure he's going to walk up (or not wake up) robbed in a snow drift.

He tries to run (or at least he thinks he does) but them there are hands and oh, _no, no, no, no._

He does not want to die here. 

But he can't walk anymore and the darkness rushes up to meet him.

(Maybe he's a little relieved.)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You survived for fucking _years_ in a _Russian prison_ , you are not dying of a tiny bullet wound and fucking pneumonia."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeeee. Thanks so much for all the feedback!
> 
> I think this fic'll be finishing up pretty soon, mostly since as an apocalypse fic there's not really an _end_ , as it were but don't think that just because the end is in sight it'll all go smoothly mwhahahahahaha.
> 
> I've got a bunch of essays due over the next two months and you know, revision for summer exams starting up after that so i'm not sure how frequently updates for this (and any of my other fics) will be, i'm kind of just writing as and when inspiration comes but hopefully there shouldn't be too much of a wait :)

**Q:**

By the time they reach the little cabin Q's fairly sure he's about to keel over. Eve has them crouching in bushes while she scopes the area but eventually she decides its safe for them to go in and that they probably haven't been followed and they're allowed to pile in to the small room and collapse.

Things have changed since they lost Lucas (Q is childishly holding on to the belief that he is just _lost_ rather than the other thing.) It's made him more acutely aware of the other people he's lost; Mallory, Tanner, Q branch, James and it fucking _hurts_. The kitten too, seems to feel the loss. She paces a lot, pawing at the door and blinking at them with confused eyes, its made Q snap at her more than a few times so she's retreated to the safety of Tariq's lap. 

They're having a dinner of cold soup (none of them wanted to light a fire in case the smoke was seen by any untoward groups of lurkers.) Q's been given some Chinese chicken and sweet corn concoction that's thick and heavy and actually quite delicious (and judging by Dimitri's occasional winces its miles better than the Asda's own tomato soup he's got.) Q's half-way through the tin and wondering why he never tried before the world ended and there were wonderful things like microwaves and soy-sauce to make the soup all the more delicious before he remembers a d starts laughing at the absurdity of it all. The others are looking alarmed and even the kitten looks slightly bemused.

"I just remembered," Q chokes, "I was a vegetarian before all this." 

And Eve smiles softly to herself, "You weren't a vegetarian that time I had frois grois at that new restaurant in Camden Lock."

Q smirks at the memory. Eve had dragged him away from work early that day sinceMallory had given her a well deserved afternoon off, they had sat by the lock and ordered the most expensive items on the menu (curtesy of Bond's credit card of course.) Their wait or had wrongly assumed they were newly weds or something and of course they had played along with exaggerated _darlings_ and _sweethearts_ but they'd lost it at the end of the meal when the waiter had remarked that their future children would be beautiful and had all but fallen over themselves laughing.

"Yes, well, one must make exceptions for certain food stuffs," Q concedes.

"Or that time we found a restaurant that served three-duck salad," Eve points out,

Tariq is laughing, Dimitri too.

"Yes, yes, fine. I was an awful vegetarian. But then again I did spend the majority of my time in a basement lab sustained only by endless cups of tea and custard-creams."

Tariq wrinkles his nose, "I always preferred Jaffa cakes."

" _You_ preferred whatever biscuits I had in my desk!" Dimitri corrects, shoving Tariq over. Tariq's oxtail soup spills across the floor and the kitten pounces, lapping it up and shooting warning glares at them. Tariq groans and bats at Dimitri. 

It's the best night they've had in weeks. 

"I'll take the first watch," Eve says eventually and the rest of them are too tired to argue. Q flops down in his sleeping bag and is dead to the world within a few minutes.

___________

**Lucas:**

There are hands. 

He thinks they might be taking things from him.

He's too tired to do anything. 

He goes back to the blackness.

___________

**Q:**

 

He's shaken awaken by Eve and judging by the fact that its still dark outside he's only been asleep for a little while. Eve's got a finger pressed to her lips and her dark eyes are wide, she gestures to the window. Q can just about hear the faint murmur of voices outside and he groans mutely, _again?_

Q sits up as Eve shakes the other two awake, he un-holsters his gun, the cold has made his fingers clumsy (even in Lucas' gloves) but he knows he'll be able to shoot straight. He's never killed a man directly before, before it was all explosions and poisons or whatever from behind computer screens (or through agents), but now? Now he thinks he could do it easily. Something's changed in him, shifted. He's not entirely sure if he's okay with it but in a world like this he doesn't really have much choice. 

They gather together in the centre of the room, crouched low. "I count six voices," Dimitri hisses.

Eve nods in agreement, "There's only one way out of here, no way were avoiding this fight."

"Why haven't they come in yet then?" Tariq is shaking a little, pressed just too closely in to Dimitri's side. 

"Maybe they want a fight," Eve murmurs. "This time we stick together no matter what. We head towards the city."

"You said it was too dangerous to travel at night," Tariq points out.

"It's not exactly safe _here_ is it?" Q mutters. Tariq falls silent and Eve gives Q a grateful look. 

"We move on three." Eve says.

This time it's less chaotic and Q gets a few shots off before hurtling in to the trees behind Tariq. One hits a man, sends him sprawling backwards in the snow. There's angry yelling following them through the forest, the loud bang of a sawn-off and Eve yelling directions, yelling at them to keep going. At this point Q's fairly sure he's running on adrenaline, all he's had for the last few days is cold soup and crackers, his legs are _jelly_.

They run until there's concrete under their feet and they can't hear anyone crashing though the trees behind them anymore. Q lets himself crumple to the ground, panting. Tariq drops beside him, one hand in the kitten's bag, and Eve and Dimitri (because they're, you know, used to this) manage to stay upright. 

"We're back on the road," Dimitri pants. "We'll be easy targets."

Eve shakes her head, "We'll be easy targets wherever we go. At least in Hull there'll be buildings."

Q manages to stand shakily and glance around. The road looks the same in both directions, "Where the hell are we," he breaths.

___________

**007, Hull:**

Alas sailing away to America with Tom, as lovely an idea as it was, just wasn't meant to be. The captain of the ship they had bought passage on had been killed over a box of Kit-Kats and a chicken and a few days later the docks had been set on fire. He and Tom had been helping out with rebuilding process but it was slow work. Still, it's nice to be reminded of why he had elected to join the secret services rather than pursue a career in manual labour or whatever people called it these days. 

Hull seems to be relatively safe now during the day, the gangs have robbed themselves out or something, they seem content to just fight it out between themselves. He supposes this is what life was like on council estates in the rougher areas of town. His house - it's odd that he's already started thinking of it as _his_ \- actually still has all its downstairs windows. He manages to stop by a relatively untouched corner shop (or what was once a corner shop) and excavate a few boxes of crisp packet and some noodles on his way home and its positively _domestic_.

He doesn't say _honey, I'm home,_ when he gets in though (Tom punched him in the face last time he did.) He dumps the food in the living room and hears Tom groan from upstairs, "You survived for fucking _years_ in a _Russian prison_ , you are not dying of a tiny bullet wound and fucking pneumonia." 

James rolls his eyes as he ascends the stairs. Tom found the guy half dead in the forest while he was hunting or whatever it is Tom does when he's not helping out at the docks. He's sort of pathetically insistent that the man survives this though but then again James isn't entirely sure he wouldn't just go to pieces if he found someone from Seven alive (not like Tom went to pieces though, Tom went down the hair-tugging, swearing and lack of sleep route - James is more the drink himself quietly in to a coma type, as already iterated.)

"I brought food," James says tiredly, leaning against the door frame.

Tom jumps and glances back at him alarmed. " _Bond_ , Jesus." 

James grins and tosses Tom a packet of Skips. The man on the bed - Lucas - as James has garnered from Tom's angry rambles, is pale and shuddering beneath layers of ratty blankets. There's a swathe of filthy bandages across his chest and every now and then a cough racks him. It might just be the psychopath in him but right now James is leaning towards euthanasia. 

"You know," James observes as Tom presses a damp towel to Lucas' forehead, "If you catch whatever he has I'm not going to do that for you." He's expecting Tom to snap at him but instead he sighs.

"Noted," he rasps. 

James isn't used to having being the more emotionally mature one so it takes him a few moments to gather together appropriate words of concern (what would Eve say in this situation?) in the end it comes out sort of growled as, "You need to fucking eat something." And Tom frowns at him for a few minutes as he tries to decipher what James just said (or maybe this situation is just as surreal for him.) 

"I can't," Tom says finally.

"If you don't," James says, channeling his inner Eve, "You'll get sick and die and then I'll have to find someone else to harass."

Despite it all Tom smiles, just a little. "Is that your odd way of telling me you've really become attached to me in these last few weeks, Bond?"

James crosses his arms, "Go _eat._ I'll watch him." 

Eventually Tom stands and crosses the room to the doorway at which point he turns and fixes James with a cool, calm stare. "If you smother him with a pillow I will shoot you in the face." 

James sniggers and crosses to the mattress glancing down at the pale man curled on top of it. Tom has told him that once upon a time this Lucas North was his superior until he got caught by the Russians, James doesn't envy him, he's had his own experience with the Russians and none of them were pleasant. Lucas coughs weakly and his eyes flutter open he mumbles something about needing to get back to his group and James doubts he's entirely lucid, he could be reliving a mission or anything. 

James hates sick people. 

He drops to kneel by the mattress and sighs, "You aren't going anywhere." 

Lucas groans and coughs again and says something that James swears is "But Q..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this huge head canon for Lucas & Tom's relationship like they were recruited together and were bffs but then Lucas got promoted to section chief and things changed (because they do, you know they do) and they started hanging out less and things got a bit bitter and bah. 
> 
> idk guys. they're just such _messes_. imagine how messy they'll be together.


	12. February 1st

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it's been a while and i have completely lost track of the timelines in this story but oh well.
> 
> not far to go now, i'm thinking there'll be maybe two chapters but i am working on another spooks/skyfall fic with sherlock bbc and daemons because, you know, au's which should be up later tonight.
> 
> hehe, you might hate me for this chapter.
> 
> also my friend emily wants me throw in tom/lucas but idk. thoughts? anyone?
> 
> thanks a bunch for the feedback and enjoy :D
> 
> EDIT: so the end got cut off and i didnt notice. oops. there's was a tom!section but i've shifted that to the beginning of next chapter and finished up James'. it was only a few sentences so you know :) Apologies for the delay!

**Tom, Hull:**

He's just poking at the mostly broken up noodles floating in the cloudy water when James thunders down the stairs. "I have to go," he yells and its honestly the most animated Tom has ever seen him. 

Tom's not sure he wants to know (he really _doesn't_ in fact, he's got enough on his plate with Lucas - god, that was a mind fuck. Harry had told him when they'd finally got Lucas back from Russia but that had been a lifetime ago and Tom had certainly never expected to see him again.) But James and him were - well, whatever they were. Tom wouldn't say _friends_ because agents didn't have friends, they have fellow agents and those bonds go deeper than _friends_. 

He leans out in to the corridor, "Where?" 

"Your friend, I think he was Q," James says, yanking on his boots (James always leave them in the hall - it's quite bizarre actually.) "If he was I have to find him." 

"And how exactly do you intend to do that?" Tom actually knows already what James intends to do: he'll charge off in true double-oh style and most likely end up mauled somewhere in the wilderness. "It's getting dark," he points out.

James quirks an eyebrow, "Not to worry, my night vision is _excellent_. I always ate up all my carrots." 

Tom switches tactics, "At least wait until morning, if your boy's got any sense he'll have found somewhere to shelter for the night." 

"Those woods aren't safe," James says. 

"My point _exactly_ ," Tom mutters.

James smirks, "Are you concerned about my safety, Agent Quinn?" 

" _No._ I just want you to know that I won't be coming to find you when you get lost out there and freeze to death," Tom mutters. 

James chuckles, "Noted," then winks devilishly, "Don't wait up." And Tom seriously reconsiders his policy on not shooting fellow agents. He gets back to the noodles just in time to prevent them over boiling and trudges back upstairs.

Lucas is still pretty out of it (which Tom is privately grateful for) but his fever is down and the bullet wound in his chest looks to be on it's way to healing (which is nothing short of a miracle since they're using old bandanas as bandages and anti-bac hand wash to clean it out.) 

Tom sighs and picks at his noodles.

_________

**Q, ???:**

"Why the hell are they still after us?" Dimitri hisses. "You would have thought they'd have worked out we don't have anything of value by now." 

The men are still after them and they're hopeless lost, he Dimitri and Tariq are pressed together under a coach on the motorway near Hull while Eve scopes the area. "Yeah," Tariq breathes, "They'll be pissed when they kill us only to find we've been out of rations for two days." 

"Maybe it's not about that," Q murmurs. "Maybe they're hunting us for sport." 

Dimitri makes a noise of muted disgust, "Why the _hell_ would people do that?" 

"Nothing good on tv?" Tariq suggests. 

"There was never anything good on tv _before_ the apocalypse," Dimitri grumbles, "and people didn't _hunt_ each other." 

Q has the kitten on his chest, she's chewing on his fingers to keep her quiet. "Dimitri I'm fairly sure at _least_ 50% of our job involves hunting people down." 

"What about the Hunger Games?" Tariq adds.

Q can almost imagine Dimitri rolling his eyes, "That's a _film_." 

"About people hunting people, sort of anyway." 

"Yes, but that sort of thing doesn't happen in real life." 

"This is real," Q points out. 

Dimitri makes a noise of muted annoyance and huffs something that sounds suspiciously like, " _Lab geeks._ " But before Q can respond Eve appears, sliding under the coach to join them. 

"They're camped about a mile up on the road side but there's a few patrolling about," she says breathlessly. "They know we're here somewhere but if we keep quiet and stay out of sight we should be able to get away."

"Get away to where?" Tariq asks just as Q murmurs, "Famous last words."

Eve sighs, "Hull, I suppose." 

"They might chase us there, you know." Q reminds her. "They've chased us this long after all and it's not as though Hull is some fortified town we can hide out in."

"No, but there'll be buildings and hopefully some non-psychotic people." Eve acquiesces. 

"I vote for Hull," Tariq mutters. "There might be food. Or mattresses." 

Q's stomach rumbles loudly in agreement.

________

It's almost dark when Eve admits they're lost. _Again._ That being said it had been Q's idea to move off the road into the safety of the trees because you know, _safety_ (and winding paths, fallen trees and snow drifts.) But hey, he didn't say they _had_ to listen to him, the non-field agent. Tariq keeps shooting him filthy looks because he's decided it's Q's fault that they're going to spend yet another night in the forest. The kitten seems pissed at him too, she keeps hissing in the bag, wriggling in a mad attempt to get free.

They walk until they find the motorway again. 

"Those men could still be there," Dimitri warns. 

Eve looks like she wants to break something, "Yes, they might be but I am _not_ spending another night out here. We're trained agents, we can get past a group of sick sadists." No one argues so Eve nods, once "Tariq, you're with me, Q, Dimitri, you follow. we stick close together and make for the cover of the cars. Hull should be an hours walk from here. Ready?"

The kitten wriggles in her bag, Q sticks a hand in to calm her and her little teeth sink into his hand. He nods and Eve takes a steadying breath, "Okay, lets move." She pushes her way through the bushes on to the motorway, Tariq follows her.

Q draws his hand out with a soft gasp and Dimitri smirks, "I told you you couldn't just carry a cat around in a bag all day and expect it to behave itself." 

"Shut up." Q mutters, because he's mature and stuff. 

Dimitri grins and shoves him towards the bushes, "Ladies first." Q scowls and heads through into the road. Eve and Tariq are crouched low by the barriers. Eve nods to him and clambers over, Tariq scrambling after her. 

The kitten hisses and Q swears under his breath, he really doesn't need this right now. They've been walking for days, its freezing and if he doesn't get some food soon he's fairly sure he's going to keel over. In fact he _knows_ he's going to keel over. 

"Just get rid of the damn thing," Dimitri mutters as he reaches Q and maybe that'd be the smart thing to do but Q _can't_. "Come on." Dimitri says as he passes. 

They scramble on to the road, keeping low and its all going well until the kitten launches herself out of the bag with a yowl and Q has to twist to grab her.

The kitten struggles free and Q ducks to catch her just as Dimitri steps out behind him to help, Eve and Tariq turning back to watch. 

It doesn't sound like gunshot. It's muffled by a silencer. A soft hiss that has them scrabbling around for their guns but it's too late. 

There's something wet on Q's cheek and Dimitri is on the floor.

________

**James:**

It's the gunshot that has him breaking in to a run. 

Maybe it's force of habit. 

There's the sound of return fire as he thunders through the field that leads up to the motorway.

He must be mad (well, there's never been any doubt about that) to go this far just for the muffled murmurs of a sick man. 

But then again he did once kidnap the head of Mi6 in an ancient car.

He's not even sure it's Q (how can he be? How can _it_ be? - Q's dead, he knows that. There's no way he survived that.)

He keeps running anyway because _maybe_ just _maybe_. He's long overdue a win anyway.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh it's been so long, super sorry guys. this is the second to last chapter though so not much further to go!
> 
> bond is super angsty and ooc in this chapter, oops. 
> 
> enjoy (if there's anyone still out there) :')
> 
> there was going to be sex but i can't write it like at _all_ so you guys'll have to make do with whatever your filthy little imaginations come up with.

**Q:**

It's always amazed Q just how much blood is in a human body. Of course he knows logically that when its thundering about in their veins no one really pays it much mind, its only when it's _outside_ that it becomes a problem. When it's blossoming across the cracked cement road, thick and dark. There's blood all around them. Splattered on the rusting cars and the kitten's fur, on Eve's tattered jacket.

He's wiped off the splatter on his face but he can still feel it; the sudden burst of heat, the warm slick slide of it.

Dimitri's eyes are wide and staring.

Tariq is shaking and James - _James_ who is _alive_ \- is talking to Eve quietly, urgently. (Unless that bullet hit him instead of Dimitri - maybe Q's dead and this all just an echo, a dream.) 

It's eerily silent after all the gunfire like it was when they first went up after the world ended. 

He's staring at Dimitri and then James is shaking him gently. "Come on," he says gruffly (still keeping up appearances.) "We've got to get moving, it's not safe out here." 

It takes Q a few minutes to remember how to walk. Eve pats him on the arm as she passes, guiding Tariq gently along. James offers him a weak smile as his legs creak back in to action. 

The kitten trots after them and mewls until Q scoops her up. 

"Don't look back," James says, low in his ear.

Q doesn't.

James has a hand on the back of his neck, driving him forward. “Just keep going,” James says. “We’re only about half an hour away from the city.” Eve is somewhere beside them, one arm around Tariq’s shoulders, talking to him lowly, her jaw set. 

She turns to James and they’re talking to each other – saying _something_ but Q’s can’t process – can’t _understand_ because all he can hear is the crack of a gun and the soft thud-crunch of a bullet hitting flesh.

_______________________

**Tom:**

Lucas' fever breaks a few hours after James leaves.

For a moment Tom panics, he's never been good with emotion and things with him and Lucas didn't exactly end on the best of terms. Of course, that's probably the last thing he should be worrying about, what with the apocalypse and everything. Lucas' eyes flicker upon and focus hazily on him and Tom suddenly feels very foolish. What the hell is he supposed to say? 

"Christ," Lucas croaks. "You're still alive." 

There are eons of history between them and all Tom can think of to do is snort and mutter, "Doing better than you." 

Lucas sits up and winces, “Where the bloody hell am I?”

“Hull.”

He frowns and looks down at his chest and Tom can see the gears whirring in his mind and things clicking in to place before he jolts up, eyes wide. “My group – I’ve got to- ”

Tom stands, hands raised – Lucas is fairly dangerous when he’s _not_ slightly fever-addled, “You’re not going anywhere.” 

“But my _group_ , Tom. We’ve got to find them – ”

Tom thanks whatever twisted god that’s watching over them that Lucas is still weak enough for Tom to push him gently back onto the mattress. “I’ve got someone looking for them. A friend.”

Lucas manages to smirk, “A _friend_?”

And Tom relaxes a little, this he can do. “A double-oh agent, picked him up in London.”

“Thought you hated Six.”

Tom wonders if Harry told Lucas anything about him after he got back from Russia – if Lucas even asked. “Things change.”

Lucas frowns a little and glances around, “How long was I out?”

“A few days – it was touch and go for a while there.” 

Lucas nods, rubs absently at the bandage and Tom thinks about offering him something to eat (he thinks they have a few old packets of crisps and maybe a tin or two of baked bins) but then there’s the unmistakable sound of the front door and he springs up, paused, “Stay here.” He says to Lucas and Lucas nods in a way that tells Tom that he has every intention of springing up and following Tom downstairs.

“I will tie you down,” he says warningly, before leaving.  
He thunders downstairs to find James in hallway, behind him are two hollow-eyed kids (not really kids but they may as well be – one is clutching at Bond’s sleeve) and a woman with blood on her cheek. He offers James a relieved smile, “You made it.”

James’ smile is tense, “Told you not to wait up, Quinn.” Didn’t all go smoothly then. 

The woman steps forward and sticks out a hand, “Eve Moneypenny, this is Q and Tariq,” she introduces. “Bond’s told me a lot about you, Mr Quinn.” She must be exhausted but Tom still feels slightly uncomfortable under her sharp gaze. 

He takes her hand with a smile, “He’s told me a lot about you too, Miss Moneypenny. Apparently you shot him once.”

Eve smirks, “Not very effectively, evidently.” She glances back at the two boys, “We hear you’ve got Lucas here.”

Tom jerks his head up the stairs, “He’s not really up and about yet.”

Eve doesn’t ask for permission – she takes the two boys by their wrists and they disappear up the flight of stairs. As soon as they’re gone James goes boneless, flops back against the wall and lets out a groan of frustration. “I lost one of them,” he mutters. “Got there just in time for him to get his head blown off,” at Tom’s questioning look he adds, “Band of Hunters.”

Ah. He and James have taken to calling them that – the groups of people that roam the countryside and roads scavenging and killing people for sport and meat. “You found your boy though,” he says gently, crouching beside James.

I didn’t.

James nods and massages his temples, “Yeah. At least there’s that.” Then he stands, “I’m starved. Going to see what we’ve got left. I’ll take them to the gym later, you can stay here.”

Tom nods, “I’ll go on a run when you get back. We’re going to be needing a lot more supplies.

_______________________

**007:**

He pushes the door to the bedroom open slowly, not because he thinks he’ll disturb but because he’s not exactly sure what to expect. Whatever it is it’s not seeing Q practically lying _on_ Lucas, with Tariq on Lucas’ other side and Eve sitting behind their heads, fingers brushing through each of their hair in turn. The cat Q had been clutching is curled up on the mattress with them. A _cat_. James still hasn’t worked that one out. It’s odd – almost uncomfortably intimate but it’s the kind of intimate built during wartime, the kind that says _we’re alive and we’re safe and we’re so, so glad_ \- still he looks at the way Q has his face pressed to Lucas’ neck and _aches_.

He watches them for a few minutes, listening to them murmur together softly before he clears his throat, slides a smile into place, “Thought you three might like a hot shower.”

_______________________

He and Tom had found the gym during their first week in Hull. It had been looted already but they had been desperate and James had tried the showers with misguided hope. He’d almost had a heart attack when the water had sputtered to life, hot and clean and _heavenly_. Turned out the private gym had its own water system – separate from the mains. God knows why no one else had discovered it. 

They don’t talk until they get there. 

“Is there _really_ hot water?” Tariq asks, looking dubiously around at the ruined building. He seems to have recovered a lot better than Q. James has walked them around to the changing rooms; there are four, each with their own walking shower blocks.

“If you’re lying,” Eve says, starting towards one of the ladies rooms, “I will find a very painful way to kill you.” 

“Noted,” James calls after her as she disappears into the room.

Tariq hovers for a few seconds before heading for one of the men’s rooms. James leads Q by the hand and he’s not entirely sure if it’s for his benefits or Q’s. The changing rooms are stark white with blue floors and the showers are only separated by thin curtains. Q grinds to a halt when they near them and when James lets his arm go they wrap protectively around his chest.

“Don’t you want to shower?” James says softly because he’s not good with emotion. Like _really_ not good. 

Q's eyes are wide and darting about the room, he bites his lip and James tries desperately to think of something to say. “You’re covered in cat fur,” he decides on, brushing the front of Q’s jacket down. Q blinks at him."I thought we'd agreed not to have pets. Do you even have a name for that thing?"

And Q laughs a little, "Cat." He says weakly.   
“Cat?” James unzips Q’s jacket, lifts his jumper of his head. “That’s not very imaginative. Is she yours?”

After a few minutes Q lifts his arms, nodding slightly. “Lucas found her in London.”

“And you brought her all the way here?” he’s undoing Q’s jeans and finally Q bends to undo his bootlaces. 

He nods faintly, “I couldn’t just leave her there...”

When he stands he leans into James, curls his fingers into the rough fabric of James’ coat. “I couldn’t just leave her there,” he repeats, James holds him as he shakes. “Don’t go.” Q mumbles into James’ shoulder.

“Of course not,” James says gruffly and then Q’s fingers are working clumsily at his coat buttons and he bends to help, tosses his clothes in the corner with Q’s and bends to capture Q’s lips.

“Thought you were dead,” Q mumbles as James’ lips leave his and latch on to his neck. _So did I,_ James thinks, _still can’t believe it._ He’s running his hands all over Q’s body because he can’t quite believe it. Q’s here.

Q’s alive.

“Don’t do it again,” Q says, “Don’t leave again – you _idiot_ \- I was so _worried_ \- ” 

James’ lips follow his hands and Q gasps a little.

“You bastard,” Q mutters, “You _bastard_ , you were alive all this time and you didn’t – you never – ” he breaks off with a moan as James reaches his hips. “And you think – you think _this_ will make it all better? Well it _won’t_ ,” he’s babbling now and despite it all James grins.

He stands and presses his forehead to Q’s, “Q, shut up.” Their lips meet again and this time Q kisses back harder, deeper, biting at James’ mouth.

_______________________

**Eve:**

She stands under the hot spray and washes Dimitri’s blood out of her hair. 

This is it, she supposes, they’re safe. They’ve made it to the coast – found James and Lucas. 

No more aimless wondering. No more being woken up by Hunters outside whatever meagre shelter they’ve found. 

She sighs and lets her legs give out, turning her face up to water. She lets herself fall apart (and if there are tears no one will ever know.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i totally stole the gym shower thing from the walking dead, ha.


	14. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is an ending, of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's taken over half a year but we've done it guys, we've reached the end. wow it's weird and you'll all probably be upset because this is uneventful and things but let's face it; it's the apocalypse, there's not much of a happy ending to be had!
> 
> anyway, thanks so, so much for all your feedback & encouragement especially those of you who've stuck it out from start to finish! I will at some point come back to this fic to fix up errors, formatting and what have you's but aside from that i think i'm done with it.
> 
> there may be a sequel. (hell it's me so there probably will be.)
> 
> if anyone's interested i am planning another skyfall/spooks(maybe sherlock) fic based around les revenants (which you should all go watch because it seriously is one of the best shows i've ever watched) but that won't be up till the end of the monthish. it will definitely be 00Q
> 
> as always, unbeta'd so any errors are mine alone, do point them out if you spot them though! there's a smidge of tom/lucas in there because ugh, headcanons (like a serious smidge it's all on you) but you can ignore it should use. lastly apologies for the short length and one last thank you!
> 
> also i don't know things so the stuff about radios is rubbish and a plothole and stuff.
> 
> ALSO warning for cruelty to animals (worms) idk cats are awful wonderful creatures that like torturing insects. Lucas enables this but hey, it's not like there's tonnes of cat food hanging about.

**March 1st**

**Q, Hull:**

"I think we should risk it," Eve says, leaning back thoughtfully. "I mean let's be realistic, the world's ended, what else do we do?"

They've been doing this for days, trying to work out what their next move is. Q thinks it's an agent thing, they're not used to sitting still for too long, not used to not having a neatly defined mission objective or someone to point and shoot them. They're all scrambling for something to _do_ , Q included. He and Tariq have devoted their time so far to fixing things up around the city. It's odd, the world has ended but it _hasn't._ It's still spinning, people are still living their lives, it's just different, but they are rebuilding; the part of the city near the harbour is well on it's way to becoming a community. There's a med station, a market, a small school house. It's almost enough to make him forget about the hunters that chased them.

Almost.

They're trying to decide their next move, Lucas has healed up and James has started to get twitchy; he's never been good at staying still for long. He and Eve want to catch a boat to America because as far as anyone can tell New York was the first city to go dark. The only downside is nobody's heard from anyone Stateside since the Incident. Nobody's heard from anyone anywhere. 

Q's not really keen on setting out in a rickety metal ship to worlds unknown but then again he doesn't really want to spend his life in a rundown house in Hull. 

"We could go back to London," Lucas suggests, he's sitting against the wall beside Tom, their shoulders brushing, the cat purring in his lap. James and Eve keep pestering Q to come up with a name for her but aside from raging cliches like 'Hope' or something he can't think of anything. "I heard they're rebuilding over there." There's a murmur of agreement from Tariq and Tom nods too, "It would be nice to touch base. We could always get a ship afterwards."

"I don't know," James says, he's got a hand on Q's knee. It's weird, James has become much more tactile, not that Q is adverse to that per se, it's just _different._ "It was rough enough getting down here. Do we really want to risk that journey again?" (His hand tightens just a fraction on Q's knee - they don't talk about Dimitri, not anymore. They'd put his name on the memorial wall in town, Q couldn't really believe how cramped that wall had been, how many names and photos had been tacked up.) 

Tom inclines his head, "That's true. But we've got no idea whether America is even there anymore. It might be worse than here. What would we do if we got there and found nothing?"

"What we always do," Eve says, "We'd carry on. We'd find something."

Lucas runs his hand through his hair, "Maybe we'd be more use here. I mean we've helping rebuild, Q and Tariq have been fixing radios and medical equipment. Eve's been terrorising people into good behaviour."

Q leans into James' side, "That's true, you know. We are a lot more use here." 

"Besides, we can always go to States later on, when things are better here," Tariq adds.

James shifts away slightly and Q's heart sinks. "Look, it's all very well and good to say we should stay and bide our time but the fact of the matter is that we still don't know what did this. Who's to say it's over? What if whatever, or whoever, did this, is going to attack again."

Eve nods, "We _need_ to find out what did this."

"They have a point," Tom mutters, nudging Lucas who sighs and glances Tariq and then at Q. Q has the sneaking suspicion that Lucas is only stubbornly refusing to go to the States for his and Tariq's sake. His gaze flickers to James and Eve and then back to Tom before drops his gaze, "Look, there's nothing that says we all have to stay together."

Q stiffens and Tariq makes a small noise of distress, they've only just found each other, they can't split up now. 

"He's right," Eve nods. "Q, you and Tariq have been working on radios, have you gotten anywhere?"

Tariq glances at him before speaking, "We've actually been doing pretty well, I mean we've got one up and running but since it's probably the only one working..." he trails off and Eve gestures, "So theoretically if we can find comms radios we could stay in touch?"

Tariq looks to Q and Q nods, "Theoretically, but it would take a while."

"How long?" James asks.

Q wants to lie and say months but he can't. "A few weeks maybe. Less if we can find a radio quickly." 

"There we go then," Eve says.

Lucas sighs, "I better get down to the docks. Lots of work to be done." He shoves the cat unceremoniously off his lap and strides out of the room. It has a domino effect, everyone stands, murmuring about places to go, promises to keep. Q sits and watches until there's only him and Tariq left. 

Tariq stands, "Guess we better go find a radio."

\--------

He finds Lucas sitting on the roof feeding the cat earthworms. He has a rusted can off them beside him and Q watches from the skylight as he draws them out one by one and dangles them in front of her until she bats them out of his hand. Once upon a time Q might have found this barbaric. Once upon a time. 

"Are you going to hang out of the window all day or are you coming to join me?" Lucas drawls.

Q scrabbles out to sit beside him and declines politely when Lucas offers him the can of worms, "Did you catch all of those yourself?"

"Nah," Lucas pulls out another one and chucks it to her. She skitters across the roof and bats at it. "Some kid gave them to me for her."

"Oh," Q frowns, "that's...sweet?" Lucas shrugs noncommittally and Q swallows, "So, are you going to go to America if we get the radio fixed up?"

Lucas looks out over the city and sighs, "I don't know, Q. Will you?"

Q wants to say yes. He doesn't want to leave James again. Strange how a little apocalypse can make you realise how lucky you are. "I don't want to," he says quietly. "Not until we know it's safe at least. And then there's - what you said, we're more useful here. I _like_ fixing up the stuff around here. I mean it's not building exploding pens," at this Lucas snorts, "or anything. But it's something. I feel like I'm being useful."

"Then I'll stay," Lucas says quietly. "I can't leave Tariq alone anyway, it wouldn't be fair." Q nods, Tariq won't go with them, he might pretend he wants to but Q knows him well enough by now to see through him. Dimitri's death hit him pretty hard, Q's not sure how he'd cope with losing someone else. 

"Yeah," Q nods, "That'd be good." Lucas still won't look at him, Q's not sure whether that's just Lucas being Lucas or Lucas being worried Q'll leave too. He bites his lip, "Is Tom going to go with James and Eve?" 

At that something flickers across Lucas' gaze, "I don't know." He draws out another worm and throws it a little ambitiously, luckily the cat doesn't leap after it. She darts to the edge and glances down before turning back to Lucas, blinking expectantly. Q has no idea what's going on between Tom and Lucas, he knows they have a history but beyond that he's not sure. Lucas has always been hard to read and Tom's not exactly an open book. It's a spy thing. He thinks maybe he could just ask but he's never been able to pluck up the courage.

Q looks out over the city, well, what's left of it. "I think I'll stay," he says quietly, side-eyeing Lucas to gauge his reaction (he thinks he might see Lucas relax a fraction more.) "It'll be like working for Six again, running him from back here."

Lucas sits back and looks over at him, "So, you think the radios might actually work?"

Q shrugs, "There's no reason why it shouldn't."

\-------

They all sleep in one room, habit Q supposes. They've found another mattress, a king, and laid beside the other one; the two of them take up pretty much the entire floor. They've all got their places; Eve on the end, closest to the door, then him and James, Tariq in the middle, Tom and Lucas on the end. They tried sleeping in separate rooms at the start but it never felt right. 

He lies awake, sprawled across James' chest listening to his heartbeat and Tariq's snores. He's trying to imagine what it'll be like if James and Eve leave. He's trying to work out if he'll cope. Going to America and finding out what started this is something James _needs_ to do, Q knows that and he's not going to try and stop him. 

"Stop thinking," James rumbles, tracing circles into Q's back. "I can hear it. It's annoying."

Q smiles despite himself, "Thinking is my job, Mr Bond. We can't all smash our way through life shooting first and asking questions later."

"Well, that's what I've got _you_ for." He presses a kiss to Q's forehead and it's absurdly domestic. 

"I might not go with you," Q says softly. "When you go to the States, I mean."

There's a pause and then James' arm tightens around him. "I know." he says back. "I always knew."

"I don't want you to leave."

James shifts slightly so he can look down at him and grins, "I'll be back," he says firmly. "You know I will be. The apocalypse didn't stop me, did it?" But Q can see the doubt in his eyes, the way his smile doesn't quite reach them. He buries his face in James' neck, "I know."

\-------

**April, 3rd:**

The wind down on the sea front is strong, but at least it gives Q the excuse of wind tears. He's hugging Eve goodbye, "Stay out of trouble," she says, voice completely steady. "And remember, every day at 9pm, we'll always answer. I promise." She draws back and smiles at him, patting him on the arm and turning to hug Tariq.

Tom is a few feet away talking to Lucas in a low voice, one hand on his shoulder. They're leaving today, with twenty others. The dock's are full of throngs of people hugging their loved ones, wishing them luck. James pulls him into a hug from behind, "Are you more interested in Tom and Lucas then saying goodbye to your unimaginably wonderful partner?" he says quietly.

Q chuckles a little, "I can't work them out." 

James twists him so they're face to face, just as Tom pulls Lucas into a rough hug. "Maybe you don't need to. Things don't always require working out." 

"That's what I do though," Q says quietly and James smiles.

"I know." 

"Don't get yourself killed," he mutters into James' shoulder.

"Eh, I tried that once. Dreadfully boring being dead, you know?" 

"You are a _moron,"_ Q laughs. 

There's this moment where they pull apart and the words - _those words_ \- are on the tip of his tongue. "I know," James says. "I know."

It starts to rain as they board the boat, pathetic fallacy. They're the last three passengers to board, Eve clutching the radio. "Lucas," she shouts over the howling wind, "You look after them! If anything happens to either of them I'll be back to kill you myself."

Q thinks Lucas might have chuckles but the wind is so wild he can't be sure, they're shoulder to shoulder, Tariq on his other side. There's a part of him that wants to run after James, to make him stay but he won't and if he does Lucas will grab his arm and hold him back. James looks back at him as the ship pulls away.

They stand on the docks until they can't it anymore (which given the rain isn't really that long) they're soaked through and it's strange, Q doesn't feel alone or that sense of despair he had when the world ended all those months ago. He's convinced himself that James and Eve and Tom will solve this thing, that they'll come back one day and tell them what ended the world and when they do England will be different. They'll have rebuilt me, they'll have functioning societies and cities, it'll be better. 

And if they don't come back well, Q'll just assume they've traveled on. To South America or Africa, or back round to Europe. They'll find out what started this, what did this. He knows they will.


End file.
